
Class Z_0_S^£ 
Book' l^ ^ 









By bequest of 



William Lukens Shoemaker 



i 



^-""H 







^Published ^^.-^ /^ 



-,j<*'-S.- 



THE 



T A S K, 



AND 



OTHER POEMS. 



BY WILLIAM COWPER, 
Of the Inner Teir.pte, Esq. 



»M0«oooo-~»» 



NEW- YORK: 
Published by david huntington", 

Corner of William and Libertj-st*. 

1814. 



vi ADVERTISEMENT. 

schools in general. If there were not, as 
lor the most part there is, wilful neglect 
in those who manage them, and an omis- 
sion even of such discipline as they are 
susceptible of, the objects are yet too nu- 
joierous for minute attention: and the 
aching hearts of ten thousand parents, 
mourning under the bitterest of uU disap- 
pointments, attest the truth of the allega- 
tion. His quarrel, therefore, is with the 
aifiischief at large, and not with any parti- 
c5,Rlay Listajice of it. 



CONTENTS, 



The Task, in Six Boolis. 

Book I. ri-.e Sofa, . % . . "^ 

11 The, Time-piece, ... 33 

III The Garden, .... 57 

IV The Winter Evening, i . 83 
V. The Winter Morning Walk, . 107 

YI. The Winter Walk at Noon, . 133 

Epistle to Joseph Hill, Esq 161 

Tirocinium : or, a Review of Schools, . . 165 

To the Reverend Mr. Newton, . • . 195 
On the Receiptor my Mother's Picture out of 

Norfolk, 19 

Friendship, 201 

The Moralizer corrected, .... 2C8 



THE TASK. 

BOOK r. 



ARGUMENT OP THE FIRST BOOK. 

HUstoiicai deduction of seats, from the Stool to the Sofa....li. 

1 Schoolboy's ramble. ...A walk in the country.. ..The scene de- 
scribed. ...Rural sounds as well as sig'bts delightful. ...Another 
walk.. ..Mistake concerning the charms of solitude corrected.... 
Colonnades commended.. ..Alcove, and the view from it.... 
The wilderness. ...The grove. ...The thresher. ...The necessity 

and the bcnetitsof exercise The works of nature superior to, 

and in some instances inimitable by, art. ...The weai isorneness 
of what is commonly called a life of pleasure. ...Change of scene 
.somttinies expedient. ...A common described, and the chamc- 
ter of crazy Kate introduced. ...Gipsies. ...The blessing of civi- 
lized life. ...That state most favourable to virtue. ...The Soutlt 
Sea islanders conipassionated,*but ciiietly Omai....Viis present 
•jtate of mind supposed. ...Civilized hie friendlj- to virtue, but 
not great cities.... G. -eat cities, and London in particular, allow* 
ed their due prai-es, but censured. ...rcte champt-tre... The 
hook concludes \vi;h a rellection on the f ita! eil'ects of dlssipi ' 
tion and elVeminacy upon our public measures, 



■rji^ 



THE SOFA. 



I SING tbe SOFA. I, viho lately sang 

Triitl), Hope, and Charity,* and tuuch'd with avre 

The solemn chords, and, with a trembling hand, 

Escap'd with pain from that advent'rous flight, 

iSTow seek repose uponan humbler theme ; 

The theme, though humble, yet august and proud 

fh' occasion — for the Fair commands the song. 

Time was, when clothing, sumptuous or for use, 
^"ave their own painted skins, our sires had none. 
As yet black breeches were not; satin smooth, 
Or velvet soft, or plush with shaggy pile : 
The hardy chief, upon the rugged rock 
Wash'd by the sea, or on the gravelly bank 
Thrown up by wintry torrents roaring loud. 
Tearless of wrong, repos'd his weary strength. 
Those barb'rous ages past, succeeded next 
i'he birthday of Invention ; weak at first, 
Dull in design, and clumsy to perform. 
Joint-stools wer« then created ; on three Jc^s 

* See Poems, vol. 1« 
B 



iO . THE TASK. 

Upborne they stood. Three legs upholding firm 

A massy slab, in fashion square or round. 

On such a stool immortal Alfred sat, 

And sivay'd the sceptre of his infant realms: 

And such in ancient halls and mansions drear 

May still be seen ; but perforated sore, 

And drill'd in holes, the solid oak is found, 

By worms voracious eating through and through. 

At length a generation more refin'd 
Improved the simple plan; made three legs four, 
Gave them a twisted form vermicular, 
And o'er the seat, with plenteous wadding stuflf'd, 
Jnduc'd a splendid cover, green and blue, 
Yellow and red, of tapestry richly wrought 
And woven close, or needlework sublime. 
There might ye see the piony spread wide, 
The full-blown rose, the sheperd and his las?, 
j^^apdog and lambkin with black staring eyes, 
And parrots with twin cherries in their beak. 

Kow came the cane from India, smooth and bpiglii 
"With Nature's varnish ; sever'd into stripes, 
That interlac'd each other, these supplied 
Of texture firm a lattice-work, that brac'd 
The new machine, and it became a chair. 
But restless was the chair; the back erect 
Oistress'd the weary loins, that felt no ease ; 
The slipp'ry seat betrayed the sliding part 
That press'd it, and the feet hung dangling doijn, 
Anxious in vain to find the distant floor. 
These for the rich ; the rest, whom Fate had plac'd 
In modest mediocrity, content 
With base materials, sat on well-tann'd hides. 
Obdurate and unyielding, glassy smooth. 
With here and there a tuft of crimson yarn. 
Or scarlet crewel, in the cushion fix'd. 
If cushion mi^ht be call'd, what harder seem'd 
Than the firm oak, of which the frame was form'rf. 
Ko want of limber then was felt or fear'd 



THE SOFA. 

In Albion's happy isle. The lumber stcod 
Pond'rous and fix'd by its own mas?y weight. 
But elbows still were wanting; these, some say, 
An alderman of Cripplegate contriv'd; 
And some ascribe th' invention to a priest 
Burly, and bi?, and studious of his ease. 
But rude at first, and not with easy slope 
Keceding wide, they press'd against the ribs, 
And bruis'd the side; and, elevated high, 
Taught the rais'd shoulders to invade the ears. 
JiOng time elaps'd or e'er our rugged sires 
Complaiu'd, though incommodiously pent in, 
And ill at ease behind. The ladies first 
'Gan murmur, as became the softer sex. 
Ingenious Fancy, never better pleas'd 
Than when employ'd t' accommodate the fair, 
Heard the sweet moan with pity, and devis'd 
The soft settee ; one elbow at each end, 
And in the midst an elbow it receiv'd, 
United yet divided, twain at once. 
So sit two kings of Brentford on one throne; 
And so two citizens, who take the air, 
Close pack'd, and smiling, in a chaise and one. 
But relaxation of the languid frame, 
By soft recumbency of outstretch'd limbs. 
Was bliss reserv'd for happier days. So slow 
The growth of what is excellent; so hard 
T' attain perfection in this nether world. 
Thus first Necessity invented stools, 
Convenience next suggested elbow-chairs, 
And Luxury th' accomplish'd sofa last. 

The nurse sleeps sweetly, hir'd to watch the sick, 
^\ hom snoring she disturbs. As sweetly he, 
Who quits the coach-box at the midnight hour, 
To sleep within the carriage more secure. 
His legs depending at the open door. 
Sweet sleep enjoys the curate in his desk, 
The tedious rector drawling o'er his head ; 
And sweet the clerk below. But neither sleep 



]2 THE TASK, 

Of lazy nurse, tvho snores the sick man ilead; 
Nor his, who quits the box at midnight liour 
To slumber in the carriage more secure; 
Nor sleep enjoy'd by curate in his desk; 
Nor yet the dozings of the clerk, are siveet, 
Compar'd with the repose the sofa yields. 

O may I live exempted (while I live 
(luiltless of pamper'd appetite obscene) 
From pangs arthritic, that infest the toe 
Of libertine Excess. The sofa suits 
The gouty linab, 'tis true : b;it gouty limb. 
Though on a sofa, may I never feel : 
Fori havelov'd the rural walk through lanes 
Ofgrassy swarth, close cropp'd by nibbling sheep, 
And skirted thick with intertexture firm 
Of thorny boughs : have lov'd the rural walk 
O'er hills, throiigh valleys, and by rivers' brink, 
E'ersince a truant boy I pass'd my bounds 
T' enjoy a ramble on the banks of Thames; 
And still reraenaber, not without regret. 
Of hours, tliat sorrow since has much endear'd, 
How oft, my slice 'jf pocket store consum'd, 
Stiil huug'ring, pennyless, and far from home, 
I fed on scarlet hips and stony haws, 
Or blushing crabs, cr berries, that emboss 
The bramble, black as jet, or sloes austere. 
Hard fare ! but such as boyish appetite 
Disdains not ; nor the palate, undeprav'd 
By culinary arts, unsav'ry deems. 
No SOFA then awaited my return ; 
Nor soiTA then I needed. Youth repairs 
His wasted spirits quickly, by long toil 
Incurring short fatigue ; and, though our years. 
As life declines, speed rapidly away. 
And not a year but pilfers as he goes 
Some youthful grace, that age would gladly keep ; 
A tooth or auburn lock, and by degrees 
Their length and colour from the locks they spare ; 
The elastic sprin* of an unwearied foot? 



THE SOFA. 1-3 

'thzt mounts the stile with ease, or leaps the feiiC3; 

That play of lungs, inhaling and again 

Respiring freely the fresh air, that makes 

fwift pace or steep ascent no toil to me, 

Mine have not pilfer'd yet ; nor yet irapair'd 

My relish of fair prospect; gcenes that sooth''! 

Or charm'd me young, no longer young, I find 

Still soothing, and of pow'r to charm me still. 

And witness, dear companion of my walks, 

Whose arm this twentieth winter I perceive 

Fast lock'd in mine, with pleasure such as love, 

Confirm'd by long experience of thy worth 

And well-tried virtues, could alone inspire— 

Witness a joy that thou hast doubled long. 

Thou know'st my praise of nature most sincere, 

And that my raptures are not conjur'd up 

To serve occasions of poetic pomp, 

But genuine, and art partner of them all. 

How oft upon yon eminence our pace 

Has slacken'd to a pause, and we have borne 

The ruffling wind, scarce conscious that it blew, 

While Admiration, feeding at the eye, 

And still ungated, dwelt upon the scene. 

Thence, with what pleasure have v;e just discern'd 

The distant plough slow moving, and beside 

His lab'ring team, that swerv'd not from the Ut^% 

The sturdy swain diminish'd to a boy ! 

Here Ouse, slow winding through a level plain 

Of spacious meads, with cattle sprinkled o'er. 

Conducts the eye along his sinuous course 

Delighted. There, fast rooted in their bank, 

Stand, never overlook'd, our fav'rite elms, 

That screen the herdsman's solitary hut; 

While far beyond, and overthwart the strewn, 

That, as with molten glass, iuiays the vale. 

The sloping land recedes into the clouds; 

Displacing oc its varied side the grace 

Of hedge-row beauties uumberl'sss, square tow'r, 

Tail spire, from which the sound of clieerfui bHln 

Just undulates upon the !J8t'nlBg ear, 



i4 THE TASK. 

Groves, heaths, and smoking villages, remote. 
Scenes must be beautiful, which daily view'd 
Please daily, and whose novelty survives 
Long knowledge and the scrutiny of years. 
Praise justly due to those that I describe. 

Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, 
Exhilarate the spirit, and restore 
The tone of languid Nature. Mighty winds, 
That sweep the skirt of some far-spreading wood 
Of ancient growth, make music not unlike 
The dash of Ocean on his winding shore, 
And lull the spirit while they fill the mind ; 
Unnumber'd branches waving in the blast, 
And all their leaves fast flutt'ring, all at oncQ. 
jVor less composure waits upon the roar 
Of distant floods, or on the softer voice 
Of neighb'ring fountain, or of rills that slip 
Through the cleft rock, and, chiming as tliey fall 
Upon loose pebbles, lose themselves at length 
In matted grass, that with a livelier green 
Betrays the secret of their silent course. 
Nature inanimate employs sweet sounds, 
But animated nature sweeter still, 
To sooth and satisfy the human ear. 
Ten thousand warblers cheer the day, and one 
The livelong night; nor these alone, whose notes 
Nice-finger'd Art must emulate in vain, 
But cawing rooks, and kites that swim sublime 
In stiil-repeated circles, screaming loud, 
The jay, the pie, and e'en the boding owl, 
That hails the rising mr>on, have charms for me. 
Sounds inharmonious in themselves and harsh, 
Yet heard in scenes where peace for ever reigns, 
And only there, please highly for their sake. 

Peace to the artist, whose ingenious thought 
Devis'd the weatlierhouse, that useful toy! 
irless of humid air and gath'ring rainSj 



THE SOFA. 

Forth steps tlie man— an emblem of myself! 
More delicate his tim'rous mate retires. 
When Winter soaks the fields, and female feet, 
Too weak to struggle with tenacious clay, 
Or ford the rivulets, are best at home, 
The task of new discov'ries falls on me. 
At such a season, and with such a charge, 
Once went I forth ; and found, till then unknown, 
A cottage, whither oft we since repair: 
'Tis perch'd upon the green hill top, but close 
Envircn'd with a ring of branching elms. 
That overhang the thatch, itself unseen 
Peeps at the vale below ; so thick beset 
With foliage of such dark redundant growth, 
I call'd the low-roof'd lodge the peasanVs nest 
And, hidden as it is, and far remote 
From such unpleasing sounds as haunt the ear 
In village or in town , the bay of curs 
Incessant, clinking hammers, grinding wheels, 
And infants clam'rous whether pleas'd or pain'd. 
Oft have I wish'd the peaceful covert mine. 
Here, I have said, at least 1 should possess 
The poet's treasure, Silence, and indulge 
The dreams of fancy, tranquil and secure. 
Vain thought ! the dweller in that still retreat 
Dearly obtains the refuge it affords. 
Its elevated site forbids the wretch 
To drink sweet waters of the crystal weli ; 
He dips his bowl into the weedy ditch. 
And, heavy laden, brings his bev'rage home, 
Far fetch'd and little worth; nor seldom wait? 
Dependant on the baker's punctual call, 
To hear his creaking panniers at the donr, 
Angry, and sad, and his last crust consurr.''.!. 
So farewell envy of the peasanVs nest I 
If solitude make scant the means of life, 
b'ociety for me I— thou seeming sweet, 
Be still a pleasing object in my view ; 
5ly visit still, but never mine abode 



'l<3 THE TA^K. 

Not distant far, a length of colonnade 
Invites us. Monument of ancient taste, 
Now scora'd, but -worthy of a better fate. 
Our fathers knew the value of a screen 
From sultry suns : and, in their shaded walks 
And long protracted how'rs, enjoy'd at noon 
The gloom and coolness of declining day. 
We bear our shades about us; seU-depriv'd 
Of other s.creen, the thin umbrella spread, 
And range an Indian waste without a tree. 
Thanks to Benevolus* — he spares me yet 
These chesouts rang'd in corresponding lines ; 
And, though himself so polish'd, still repriet«s 
The obsolete prolixity of shade. 

Descending now (but cautious, lest too fist*>j, . 
A sudden steep upon a rustic bridge, 
We pass a gulf, in which the willows -dip 
Their pendent boughs, stooping as if to drinTc. 
Hence, ankle deep in moss and flow'ry thyme, 
We mount again, and feel at cv'ry step 
Our foot hall sunk in hillocks green and soltj 
Raia'd by the mole, the miner of the soil. 
He, not unlike the great ones of mankind, 
Disfigures Earth : and, plotting in the dark, 
Toils much to earn a monumental pile 
That may record the niischijefs Le has dona. 

The summit gain'd, behold the proud alcopa 
That crowns it I yet not all its pride secures 
The grand retreat from injaries impress'd 
By rural carvers, who with knives deface 
The panels, leaving an obscure, rude name, 
in characters uncouth, and spelt amiss. 
i?o strong the zeal t' immortalize himself 
Beats in the breast of man, that e'en a few, 
Few transient years, won from th' abyss abhorrM 

* .'t'hi; Courmpy ThToc]«n-,orto:i . F.s^. of 'Vreston rrdfrwpocl. 



THE SOFA. 17 

Of blank oblivion, seem a glorious prize, 
And even lo a clown. Now roves the eye ; 
And, posted on this speculative height, 
Exults in its command. The sheepfold here 
Pours out its fleecy tenants o'er the glebe. 
At first, progressive as a stream, they seek 
The middle field; but, scatter'd by degrees, 
Each to his choice, soon whiten all the land. 
There from the sunburnt hayfield homeward creeps 
The loaded wain ; while, lighten'd of its charge, 
The wain that meets it passes swiftly by; 
I'fae boorish driver leaning o'er bis team 
Vocifrous, and impatient of delay. 
]Mor less attractive is the woodland scene, 
Diversified with trees of ev'ry growth, 
Alike, yet various. Here the gray smooth trunks 
Of ash, or lime, or beech, distinctly shine, 
Within the twilight of their distant shades ; 
There, lost behind a rising ground, the wood 
Seems sunk, and shorten'd to its topmost bough.?. 
No tree in all the grove but has its charms, 
Though each its hue peculiar; paler some, 
And of a wannish gray; the willow such, 
And poplar, that with silver lines his leaf, 
And ash far-stretching his umbrageous arm; 
Of deeper green the elm; and deeper still, 
Lord of the woods, the long surviving oak. 
Some glossy leav'd, and shining in the sun, 
The maple, and the beech of oily nuts 
Prolific, and the lime at dewy eve 
Diffusing odours : nor unnoted pass 
The sycamore, capricious in attire, 
Now green, now tawny., and, ere autumn yet 
Have chang'd the woods, in scarlet honours bn'^lit. 
O'er these, bat, far beyond (a spacious map 
Of hill and valley interpos'd between) 
The Ouse, dividing the well-water'd land, 
Now glitters in the sun, and now retires, 
As bashful, yet iinpatient to be seen. 
t 2 



■; THE TASK. 

Ilcnce the detili-.'ity is sharp and short, 
And such the reascent; between them weeps 
A little Ksiad her impovTish'd urn 
All summer long, which winter Jills again. 
The folded gates would bar my progress now. 
But that the lord* of this enclos'd deiaesne, 
Communicativeof the good he owns, 
Admits cie to a share ; the guiltless eye 
Commits no wrong, nor wastes what it enjoys. 
Refreshing change ! where now tlie blazing sua I 
Ey short transition we have lost his glare, 
And stepp'd at once into a cooler clime. 
Ye fallen avenues ! once more I mourn 
Your fate unmerited, once more rejoice 
That yet a remnant of your race survi%'es. 
Kow airy and how light the graceful arch, 
Yet awful as the consecrated roof 
lie-echoing pious authems ! while beneath 
The checker'd earth stems restless as a Hood 
Erush'd hy the wind. So sportive is the light 
Shot through the bows, it dances as they dance, 
Shadow and siia-;hiiiP ifltermlugling quick, 
And dark'ijiitg, and eulight'ning, as the leaves 
Tlay wanton, ev'ry moment, ev'ry spot. 

And now, witli nerves new brac'd and spirits cheer'd, 
"V.'e tread the v/ilderness, whose well-roll'd waliis, 
With curvature of slow and easy sweep — 
Deception iht.ocent— give ample space 
To narrow bounds. The grove receives us next: 
retv,een the upright shafts of whose tall elms 
"Vre may discern the thresher at his task. 
Thump after thump resounds the constant flail, 
That seems to 3v\ing uncertain, and yet falls 
full on the dei^tin'd ear. Wide flies the chaa; 
The rustling straw sends up a frequent mist 
Of atoms, sparkli.'ig in the noonday beam. 
t^otne hither, yo that press your bed? of down, 
AtiJ sleep iiot; see him sweating o'ei hi? bread 

$s€ the foregojpg note. 



THE HOFA. 1;. 

Eefore !ie eals it.— 'Tis the primal ciirs<», 
Butsoften'd into mercy; made the plech^c 
Of cheerful d3}'s, and nights wittoul a j;ronn. 

By cesseless aotinn all that is subsist?. 
Constant rotation of th' iinwearie.i! wheel 
That Nature rides upon, maintains her heallh, 
Her beauty, her fertility. She dreads 
An instant's pause, and lives but ivhile she aiuves : 
Its own revolvency upholds the World. 
Winds from al! quarters agitate the air, 
And fit the limpid elenocnt for use, 
Else noxious; oceans, rivers, lakes, and .^Ircams, 
All feel the Tresirning impulse, and are cioaiis'd 
By restless undulation : e'en the oak 
Thrives by the rude concussion of the storm : 
He seems indeed indignant, and to feel 
Th' impression of tlie blast with proud disdain, 
Frowning, as if in iiis unconscious arm 
He held the thunder : but the monarch owes 
His firm stability to what he scorns, 
More fi:c'd below, the more disturb'd above. 
The law, by which all creatures else are bound, 
Binds man, the Lord of all. Himself derives 
No mean advantage from a kindred cause. 
From strenuous toil his hours Of sweetest ease. 
The sedentary stretch their iazy length 
When Custom bids, but no refreshment Rm^, 
For none they need : the languid eye, the chsek 
Deserted of its bloom, the flaccid, shrunk, 
And wither'd muscle, and the vapid soul, 
Reproach their owner with that love of rest. 
To which he forfeits e'en the rest he loves. 
Not such the alert and active. Measure life 
By its true worth, the comforts it affords, 
And theirs alone seems worthy of the r.ame. ) 
Good health, and, its associate in the most. 
Good temper; spirits prompt to undertake, 
Aai noi soon spent, th.ou^h in aq arduous task: 



£9 THE TASK. 

T]\e pow'rs cf fancy and strong thought are theirs-; 
K'en age itself seems privileg'd in tliein 
With clear exemption from its own defects. 
A sparkling eye beneath a ivrinkled front 
The vet'ran shoTss, and, gracing a gray beard 
With youthful smiles, descends toward the grave 
Sprightly, and old almost without decay. 

Like a coy maiden, Ease, ivbeD courted most, 
Furthest retires — an idol, at whose shrine 
Whooft'nest sacrifice are favour'd least. 
The love of Nature, and the scenes she draws, 
Is nature's dictate. Strange! there should be found, 
Who, self-imprison'd in their proud saloons, 
Renounce the odours of the open field 
For the unscented fictions of the loom ; 
Who, satisfied with only pencill'd scenes. 
Prefer to the performance of a God 
Th' inferior wonders of an artist's hand t 
Lovely indeed the mimic works of Art; 
}!ut Nature's works far lovelier. I admire, 
TCone more admires, the painter's magic skill ; 
Who shows me that which I shall never see, 
Conveys a distant country into mine. 
And throws Italian light on English walls : 
But imitative strokes can do no more 
Than please the eye — sweet Nature's ev'ry sense. 
The air salubrious of her lofty hills. 
The cheering fragrance of her dewy vales, 
j&nd music of her woods — no works of man 
Blay rival these, these all bespeak a pow'r 
Peculiar, and exclusively her own. 
Beneath the open sky she spreads the feast ; 
'Tis free to all — 'tis ev'ry day renew'd ; 
Who scorns it starves deservedly at home. 
He does not scorn it, who, imprison'd long 
In some unv;hoIesome dungeon, and a prey 
To sallow sickness, which the vapours, dank 
And clammy, of his dark abode have bred; 



THE SOFA. ' 21 

Escapes at last to liberty and light : 

His cheek recovers soon its healthful hue ; 

His eye relumines its extinguish'd fires; 

He walks, he leaps, he runs— is wing'd with joy, 

And riots in the sweets of ev'ry breeze. 

He does not scorn it, who has long endiir'd 

A fever's agonies, and fed on drugs. 

Nor yet the mariner, his blood indam'd 

With acrid salts; his very heart athirst. 

To gaze at Nature in her green array, 

Upon the ship's tall side he stands, possess'd 

With visions prompted by intense desire : 

Fair fields appear below, such as he left 

Far distant, such as he would die to find — 

He seeks them headlong, and is seen no more. 

The spleen is seldom felt where Flora reigns ; 
The low'ring eye, the petulance, the frown, 
And sullen sadness, that o'ershade, distort, 
And mar, the face of Beauty, when no cause 
For such immeasurable wo appears, 
These Flora banishes, and gives the fair 
Sweet smiles, and bloom less transient than her own. 
It is the constant revolution, stale 
And tasteless, of the same repeated joys, 
That palls and satiates, and makes languid life 
A pedlar's pack, that bows the bearer down. 
Health suffers, and the spirits ebb, the heart 
Recoils from its own choice— at the full feast 
Isfamish'd — finds no music in the song, 
No smartness in the jest; and wonders why. 
Yet thousands still desire to journey on. 
Though halt, and weary of the path they tread. 
The paralytic, who can hold her cards. 
But cannot play them, borrows a friend's hand, 
To deal and shuffle, to divide and sort 
Her mingled suits and sequences; and sits, 
Spectatress both and spectacle, a sad 
And silent cipher, while her proxy plays. 



22 THE TAdK. 

Others are dragg'd into the crowdetl room 

Between supporters; and, once seated, sits., 

Through downright inability to rise, 

Till the stout bearers lift the corpse again. 

These siieak aloud memento. Yet e'ea these 

Theaisfelves Jove life, and cling to it, as he 

That overhangs a torrent, to a twig. 

They love it, and yet loathe it; iear to die, 

Yet scorn the purposes for which they live. 

Then wherefore not renounce them ? No—the dread, 

The slavish dread of solitude, that breeds 

Reflection aad remorse, the fear of shame, 

And their invet'rate habits, all forbid. 

Whom call we gay ? That honour has been long 
The boast of mere pretenders to the name. 
■The innocent are gay— the lark is gay, 
That dries his feathers, saturate with dew. 
Beneath the rosy cloud, while yet the beams 
Of dayspring overshoot his humble nest. 
The peasant too, a witness of his song, 
Himself a songster, is as gay as he. 
Butsave me from the gayety of those. 
Whose headachs nail them to a noonday bed ; 
And save me too from theirs, whose haggard eVei 
Flash desperation, and betray their panes 
For property stripp'd off' by "cruel chance- 
From gayety, that fills the bones with pain. 
The mouth with blasphemy, the heart with wo. 

The Earth was made so various, that the mind 
Of desultory man, studious of change. 
And pleas'd with novelty, might be indulg'd. 
Prospects, however lovely, may be seen 
Till half their beauties fade: the wearv sight 
Too well acquainted with theirsmiles.s'lldes off 
Fastidious, seeking less familiar scenes. ^ ' 
Then snug enclosures in the sheller'd vale, 
■^There frcqixeat feedges iatercept tbo eye,' 



THE SOFA. 

Delrght us ; happy to renounce awhilft, 
Not sen-eleS3 of its charms, what still we lovc. 
That such short absence may endear it more. 
Then forests, or the savage rock, may please> 
Tiiat hides the sea mew in his hollow clefts 
Above the reach of man. His hoary head, 
Conspicuous many a league, the mariner 
Bound homeward, and io hope already there, 
Greets with three cheers exulting. At his waist 
A girdle of half-wither'd shrubs be shows, 
And at his feet the liaffled billows die. 
The common, overgrown withffern, and rough 
With prickly gorsc, that, shapeless and del'or.c'i^ 
And dangTous to the touch, has yet its bloom, 
And decks itself with crcaments of gold, 
Yields no unpleasing ramble; ; here the turf 
Smells fresh, and, rich in odorif'rous herbs 
And fungous fruits of earth., regales the sense 
With luxury of unexpected sweets. 

There often wanders one, whom better days 
Saw better clad, in cloak of satin trimm'd 
With lace, and hat with splendid riband bouud. 
A serving maid was she, and fell in love 
With one who left her, went to sea, and died. 
Her fancy foliow'd him through foaming waves 
To distant shores ; and she would sit and weep 
At what a sailor suffers; fancy too. 
Delusive most where warmest wishes are. 
Would oft anticipate his glad return. 
And dream of transports she was not to know. 
She heard the doleful tidings of his death— 
And never smil'd again ! and now she roams 
The dreary waste; there spends the livelong day, 
And there, unless when charity forbids, 
The livelong night. A tatter'd apron hide.i, 
Worn as a cloak, and hardly lijdes, a gown 
More tatter'd still; and both but ill conceal 
A bosom heav'd withnever-ceasiogsiglii. 



24 THE TASK. 

She begs an idle pin of all she meets, 
And hoards ihem in her sleeve ; but needful food 
Though press'd with hunger oft, or comelier clothes 
Though pinch'd with cold, asks never— Kate is crazM. 

1 see a column of slow rising smoke 
O'ertop the lofty wood, that skirts the wild. 
A vagabond and useless tribe there eat 
Their miserable meal. A kettle, slung 
Between two poles upon a stick transverse, 
Receives the morsel— flrsh obscene of dog. 
Or vermin, or at best of cock purloinM 
From his accustomed perch. Hard-faring race ! 
They pick their fuel outof ev'ry hedge. 
Which, kindled with dry leaves, just saves unqucnch'd 
The spark of life. The sportive wind blows wide 
Their fluttering rags, and shows a tawny skin, 
The vellum of the pedigree they claim. 
Great skill have they in palmistry, and more 
To conjure clean away the gold they touch, 
Conveying worthless dross into its place; 
Loud when they beg, dumb only when they steal. 
Strange ! that a creature rational, and cast 
In human mould, should brutalize by choice 
His nature; and, though capable of arts, 
By which the world might profit, and himself, 
Self-banish'd from society, prefer 
Such squalid sloth to honourable toil ! 
Yet even these, though feigning sickness oft, 
They swathe the forehead, drag the limping limb, 
And vex their flesh with artificial sores. 
Can change their whine into a mirthful note. 
When safe occasion offers; and with dance. 
And music of the bladder and the bag, 
Beguile their woes, and make the woods resound. 
Such health and gayety of heart enjoy 
The houseless rovers of the sylvan world; 
And, breathing wholesome air, and wand'ring mticb, 
Need other physic none to heal th' effecta 
Of loathsome diet, penury, and cold. 



THE SOFA. 

Blest he, Ihoiigh undistJDguish'd frooi tlie crowd 
By wealth or dignity, who dwells secure, 
Where man, by nature fierce, has laid aside 
His fierceness, having learnt, though slow to learn, 
The manners and the arts of civil life. 
His wants indeed are many ; but supply 
I.e obTious, plac'd within the easy reach 
Oftemp'rate wishes and industrious hands. 
Here virtue thrives as in her proper soil; 
]\'ot rude and surly, and beset with thorns, 
And terrible to sight, as when she sprhigs, 
(If e'er she spring spontaneous,) in remote 
And barb'roiw climes, where violence prevails., 
And strength is lord of all; but gentle, kind, 
By culture tani'd, by liberty refresli'd, 
And all her fruits by radiant truth matur'd. 
War and the chase engross the savage whole; 
"War foilow'd for revenge, or to supplant 
The envied tenants ofsorce happier spot: 
The chase for sustenance, precarious trust? 
His hard condition with severe constraint 
Binds a!] his faculties, forbids ail growth 
Of wisdom, proves a school, in which he learns 
Sly circumvention, unrelenting hate, 
Mean seif-atta'^hment, and scarce aught fcesid*^. 
Tlius fare the shiv'ring natives of the north, 
And thus the rangers of the western world, 
Where it advances far into the deep, 
Tow'rds the ajtarctic. E'en the favour'd is!es 
So lately found, although the constant sun 
Gheer all their seasons with a grateful smile, 
Can boast but little virtue; and inert 
Through plenty, lose in morals what they gain 
Iq manners— victims of luxurious easje.^l* • 
These therefore I can pity, plac'd rem^P 
From all that science traces, art invents, 
Or inspiration teaches; andenclos'd 
la boundless oceans never to be pass'd 
By navigators uninform'd as they, 
Or- plDujli'd roi'hsj)3 by Britii^l! tsark araiff: 



26 THE TASK. 

But far beyond the rest, and with most cause, 

Thee, gentle savage !* whom no love of thee 

Or thine, but curiosity perhaps, 

Or else vainglory, prompted us to draw 

F'orth from thy native bow'rs, to show thee here 

With what superior skill we can abuse 

The gifts of Providence, and squander life. 

The dream is past; and thou hast found again 

Thy cocoas and bananas, palms and yams. 

And homestall thatch'd with leaves. But hast thou 

found 
Their former charms 1 And, having seen our state, 
Our palaces, our ladies, and our pomp 
Of equipage, our gardens, and our sports, 
Aryl heard our music ; are thy simple friends, 
Thy simple fare, and all thy plain delights, 
A ^ dear to thee as once ? And have thy joys 

'^st nothing by comparison with ours 1 
.lade as thou art, (for we return'd thee rude 
And ignorant, except of outward show,) 
1 cannot think thee yet so dull of heart 
And spiritless, as never to regret 
Sweets tasted here, and left as soon as knowa. 
Methinks I see thee straying on the beach. 
And asking of the surge, that bathes thy foot, 
If ever it has wash'd our ilistant shore. 
I see thee weep, and thine are honest tears, 
A patrioi's for his country : thou art sad 
At thought of her forlorn and abject state, 
From which no pow'r of thine can raise her up. 
Thus Fancy paints thee, and, thougii apt to err, 
Perhaps errs little, when she paints thee thus. 
Siie tells cMb^that duly ev'ry morn 
Thou clim^^^e mountain top. with eager eye 
Exploriilfiff and wide the wat'ry waste 
For sight of ship from England. Ev'ry speck 
Seen in the dim horizon turns thee pale 
With conflict of contending hopes and fears. 

» Oniai. 



THE SOFA. 27 

But c«mcs at last the dull and dusky eve, 
And sends thee to thy cabin, well-prepar'd, 
To dream all night of what the day denied. 
Alas ! expect it not. We found no bait 
To tempt us in thy country. Doing good, 
Disinterested good, is not our trade. 
We travel far, 'tis true, but not for naught ; 
And must be brib'd to compass Earth again 
l»y other hopes and richer fruit than yours. 

But though true worth and virtue in the mild 
And genial soil of cultivated life 
Thrive most, and may perhaps thrive only there, 
Yet not in cities oft : in proud, and gay, 
And gain-devoted cities. Thither flow, 
As to a common and most noisome sewer, 
The dregs and feculence of ev'ry land. 
In cities foul example on most minds 
Begets its likeness. R,ank abundance breeds. 
In gross andpamper'd cities, sloth, and lust, 
And wantonuetis, and gluttonous excess. 
In cities vice is hidden with most ease, 
Or seen with least reproach ; and virtue, taught 
Uy frequent lapse, can hope no triumph there 
lieyond th' achievement of successful flight. 
1 do confess them nurs'ries of the arts. 
In which they flourish most ; where in the beams 
Of warm encouragement, and in the eye 
Of puiilic note, they reach their perfect size. 
Such Loudon is, by taste and wealth proclaim'd 
The fairest capital of all the world, 
By riot and incontinence the worst. 
There, touch'd liy Reynolds, a dull blank becomes 
A lucid mirror, in which Nature sees 
AH her reflected features. Bacon there 
Gives more than female beauty to a stone, 
And Chatham's eloquence to marble lips. 
Nor i'oef. the chisel occupy alone 
The pow'rs of sculpture, but the style as much 
Eack provJEce of her art Ler equal care. 



15 THE TASK. 

With nice incision of her guided steel 
?he ploughs a brazen field, aad clothes a soi3 
v?o sterile with -srhat charms soe'er she will, 
The richest scenery aiid the loveliest forms. 
Where finds Philosophy her eagle eye. 
With which she gazes at yon burning disk 
Undazzied, and detects and counts his spots ? 
In London. Where her implements exact, 
With which she calculates, computes and scans, 
All distance, moiion, magnitude, and now 
Measures an atom, and now girds a world ? 
In London. Where has commerce such a mart, 
J>o rich, so throng'd, so draiii'd, and so supplied. 
As London — opulent, enlarg'd, aad still 
Increasing London ' Babylon of old 
Z^'^ot more the glory of the Earth, than she, 
A more acccmplish'd world's chief glory now. 

She hasJier praise. Now mark a spot or two, 
That so much beauty would do well to purge ; 
And show this queen of cities, that so fair, 
May yet be foul ; so witty, yet not wise. 
It is not seemly, cor of good report, 
Tj-.atshe is slack in discipline; more prompt 
T" avenge than to prevent the breach of law : 
That she is rigid in denouncing death 
On petty robbers, and indulges life 
And liberty, and ofttimes honour too, 
To peculators of the public gold : 
That ihieves at home mus^ hang; but he, tllat put* 
Into his overgorg'd and bloated purse 
The wealth of Indian provinces, escapes. 
Kor is it well, nor can it come to good, 
That thro"»h profane and infidel contempt 
f)f holy writ, she has presum'd t' annul 
And abrogate, as roundly as she may, 
The total ordinance and will of God ; 
AdTaucing Fashion to the post of Truth, 
And centPficgall authority in modes 
Aad customs of 6er cttji, till »akbaih rJUs 



THE SOKA. 

HavedwindlerJ into unrespected forms, 

Acd knees and hassocks are well-nigli divorc'd. 

God made the country, and man made the town. 
What wonder then that health and virtue, gifts 
That can alone make sweet the bitter draught 
That life holds out to all, should most abound 
And least be threaten'd in the fields and groves'? 
Possess ye- therefore, ye who, borne about 
In chariots and sedans, know no fatigue 
But that of idleness, and taste no scenes 
But such as art contrives, possess ye still 
Your element, there only can ye shine ; 
There only minds like yours can do no harm- 
Our groves were planted to console at noon 
The pensive wand'rer in their shades. At ev€ 
The oioou-beam, sliding softly in between 
The sleeping leaves, is all the light they wish. 
Birds warbling all the music. We can spare 
The splendour of your lamps; they but eclipse 
Our softer satellite. Your songs confound 
Our more harmonious notes : the thrush depart? 
Scar'd, and th' offended nightingale is mute. 
There is a public mischief in your mirth; 
It plagues your country. Folly such as yours, 
Grac'd with a sword, and worthier of a fan, 
Has made, wiiat enemies could ne'er have done* 
Our arch of empire, steadfast but for j'Qu, 
A mutiJaled structure soon to fall. 



THE TASK. 



BOOK II. 



ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND BOOK. 



Re3ect:ons suggested by the conclusion of the former book.-.i. 
Peace among the nations recommeaded on the ground of 
Ihelr common fellowship in sorrow.. ..Piodigiesenumerated.,.. 
Sicilian earthquakes Man rendered obnoxious to these cala- 
mities by sin God the agent in them.... The philosophy that 

stops at secondary, causes reproved Our own late miscar- 
riages accounted for Satirical notice taken of our trips to 

Fontaiiie-Bieuu....Bnt the pulpit, notsatire, the proper engine 
of reformation The Reverend Advertiser of engraved ser- 
mons Petit-maitre parson The good preacher Picture 

of a theatrical clerical coxcomb. ...Story-tellers and jesters 
in the pulpit reproved. ...Apostrophe to popular applause.... 
Hetaileis of ancient philosophy expostulated with. ...Sum of 
the whole matter.... Effects of sacerdotal mismanagement on 
the lait3'. ...Their loUy and extravagance.... The mischiefs of 
profusion. ...Profusion itself, witlx all its consequent evHs, 
a.scribeu, as to its principal cause, to the want of disciplinem 
tiie universittes. 



THE TASK. 



BOOK II. 



THE TIME-PIECE, 



O FOR a lodge in some vast wilderness, 
Some boundless contiguity of shade, ' 
Where rumour of oppression and deceit, 
Of unsuccessful or successful war, 
Might never reach me more ! My ear is pain-d, 
My soul is sick with ev'ry day's report 
Of wrong and outrage with which earth is BlIM. 
There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart • 
( It does not feel for man: the natural boud 
Of brotherhood is sever'd, as the flax, 
That falls asunder at the touch of fire. 
He finds his fellow guilty of a .skin 
Not colour'd like his own ; and having pow'r 
T' enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause 
Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey. ^ 
Lands intersected by a narrow frith 
Abhor each other. Mountains interpos'd 
Make enemies of nations, who had else 
Like kindred drops been mingled into one. 
Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys- 
And worse than all, and most to be deplor'd, ' 
As human nature's broadest, foulest blot, 
Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his swear 
With stripes, that mercy, with a bleeding : oa-* 
Weeps when siie sees inEicted on a bea«t 
i'hea what is man ? And what man, seein<' th;« 
And havinjr humc,n feeljog.s, Joes not blush "" 
^nd ha.'ig his head, to think himself a man' 



■i THE TASK. 

1 wouli] net have a slave to till my ground; 
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, 
And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth 
That sinews bought and snld have ever earnM 
1^0 : dear as freedom is, and in my heart's -~ 
Just estimation priz-'d above all price, 
1 had much rather be mysolfthe slave, 
^nd wear the bonds, than fasten them on him. 
We haA'e no slaves at home.— Then why abroad : 
And thoy themselves, once ferried o'er the wave 
That parts us, are emancipate and loos'd. 
{Slaves cannot hreathe in England; if their lungs 
Pteceive our air, that moment they are free : 
They touch our country, and their shackles fall. 
That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud 
And jealous of the blessing. Spread it, then, 
And let it circulate through ev'ry vein 
Of all your empire; tliat where Britain's pow'r 
Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too. 

Sure there is need of social intercourae, 
Jienevolence, and peace, and mutual aid, 
Between the nations, in a world that seems " 

To toll the death-bell of its own decease, 
Knd by the voice of all its elements 
To preach the gen'ra! doom.* When were the ivindE 
Let slip with such a warrant to destroy? 
When did the waves so haughtily o'erleap 
Their ancient barriers, deluging the dry? 
Fires from beneath and raeteoi'st from above, 
.portentous, unexampled, unexplain'd, 
Have kindled beacons in the skies; and th' old 
And crazy Earth has had her shaking fits 
More frequent, and foregone her usual rest. 
Is it a timeto wrangle, when the props 
And pillars of our planet seem to fail, 
And Naturet with a dim and sickly eye 

Alluding to the calamities in Jamaica. 

J7!.gust 18, 1783. 
■x Alluding to the fog, that coverti iotk Ewto^taniAsKi 
during the mhole suirmci f^f 1783. 



THE TIME-PIECE. ;^* 

To Trait the close of all ? But grant her end 

More distant, and that prophecy demands 

A longer respite unaccomplish'd yet; 

Still they are frowning signals, and bespeak 

Displeasure in his breast who snaites the Earth 

Or heals it, makes it languish or rejoice. 

And 'tis but seemly, that, where all deserve 

And stand expos'd by common peccancy 

To what no few have felt, there should be peace, 

And brethren in calamity should love. 

Alas for Sicily ! rude fragments now 
I.iescatter'd, where the shapely column stood. 
Her palaces are dust. In all her streets 
The voice of singing and the sprightly chord 
Are silent. Revelry, and dance, and show, 
Suffer a syncope and solemn pause; 
While God performs upon the trembling stage 
Of his own werks his dreadful part alone. 
How does the earth receive him ?— with what Bigss 
Of gratulation and delight her king? 
Pours she not all her choicest fruits abroad, 
Her sweetest flow'rs, her aromatic gums, 
Disclosing Paradise where'er he treads ? 
She quakes at his approach. Her hollow womb, 
Conceiving thunders, through a thousand deeps 
And fiery caverns roars beneath his foot. 
The hills move lightly and the mountains smoke. 
For he has touch'd them. From th' extremest poini. 
Of elevation down into, the abyss 
His wrath is busy, and his frown is felt. 
The rocks fall headlong, and the valleys rise, 
The rivers die into offensive pools, 
And, charg'd with putrid verdure, breathe a sfttas 
And mortal nuisance into all the air. 
What solid was, by transformation strange, 
(irows fluid; and the fix'd and rooted earth, 
Tormented iato billows, heaves and swells, 
Or with vertiginous and hideous whirl 
Sucks down its prey insatiable. Immense 
The tuiuult and the overtbroTv, the pangs 



3G THE TASK. 

And agonies of human and of hriile 
Multitudes, fugitive on ev'ry side. 
And fugitive in vain. The sylvan scene 
Migrates uplifted ; and, with all its soil 
Alighting in far distant fields, finds out 
A new possessor, and survives the cliangp. 
Ocean has caught the frenzy, and, upwrought 
To an enormous and o'erbearing height, 
jMot hy a mighty wind, but by that voice 
\Vhich winds and waves obey, invades the shore 
Resistless. Never such a sudden flood, 
Upridg'd so high, and $enlon such a charge, 
I'ossess'd an inland scene. Where now the throng 
That press'd the beach, and, hasty to depart, 
Look'd to the sea for safety ? They are gone, 
Gone with the refluent wave into the deep — 
A prince with half his people ! Ancient tow'rs. 
And roofs embattled high, the gloomy scenes 
Where beauty oft and letter'd worth consume 
liife in the unproductive shades of death. 
Fall prone: the pale inhabitants come forth, 
And, happy in their unforeseen release 
From all the rigours of restraint, enjoy 
The terrors of the day that sets them free. 
Who then that has thee, would not hold thee fast, 
Freedom ! whom they that lose thee so regret, 
Th:it e'en a judgment, making way for thee, 
Seems in their eyes a mercy for thy sake ? 

Such evil Sin bath wrought; and such aflame 
Kindled in Heav'n, that it burns down to Earth, 
And in the furious inquest that it makes 
On God's behalf, lays waste his fairest works. 
The very elements, though each be meant 
The minister of man, to serve his wants, 
Conspire against him. With his breath he draws 
A plague into his blood ; and cannot use 
Life's necessaiy means, but he must die. 
Storms rise t' o erwhelm him; or if stormy winds 
Uise not, the waters of the deep shall rise, 
■\nd, needing none aseistaace of tlie storm, 



THE TIME PIECE. 

Rball roll them?eives ashore, and reach him there. 
The earth shall sliake him out of all his holds,- 
Or make his house his grave : nor so conteut; 
Shall counterfeit the motions of the flood. 
And drown him in her dry and dusty gulfs. 
What then ! — were they the wicked above all, 
And we the ri:;hteou5, whose last-anchor'd isle 
Mov'd not, while theirs was rock'd, like alight skU 
The sport of every wave 1 iSJo : none are clear, 
And none Than we more guilty. But, where all 
Stand chargeable with guilt, aiid to the shafts 
Of wrath oliiioxious. God may choose his mark: 
May punish, if he please, the less, to warn 
The more malignant. If he spar'd not them, 
TremMe and he araaz'd at thine escape. 
Far guiltier England, lest he spare not thee ! 

Happy the man, who sees a God employ'd 
In ail the good and ill that checker life ! 
Resolving all events, with their elFects 
And manifold results, into the will 
And arliitralion wise of the Supreme. 
Did not his eye rule all things, and intend 
The least of our concerns ; (since from the lcas.t 
The greatest oft originate;) could chance 
Find place in his dominion, or dispose 
One lawless particle to thwart his plan ; 
Then God might he surpris'd, and unfore.'5een 
Contingence might alarm him, and disturb 
The smooth and equal course of his afiiairs. 
This truth Philosophy, though eagle-ey'd 
In nature's tendencies, oft overlooks ; 
And, having found \m instrument, forgets, 
Or disregards, or, njorc presumptuous still. 
Denies the power that wields it. God proclaims 
His hot displeasure against foolish men, 
That live an atheist life: involves the Heav'ns 
In tempests ; quits his grasp upon the winds. 
And gives them all their fury; hids a plague 
Is indie a fiery t.ile up»n the skin. 
And putrefy the breath of blooming Health. 



■-^'> THE TASK. 

He calls for Famine, and the meager fiend 

BJoTvs mildew from between his shrivel'd lips, 

And taints the golden ear. He springs his mines, 

And desolates a nation at a blast. 

Forth steps the spruce philosopher, and tells 

Of homogeneal and discordant springs 

And principles; of cavises how theyTfork 

By necessary laws their sure effects 

Of action and reaction : be has found 

The source of the disease that nature feels, 

And bids the world take heart and banish fear. 

Thou fool ! will thy discov'ry of the cause 

Suspend th' efifect, or heal if? Has not God 

Still wrought by means since first he made the world "' 

And did lie not of old employ his means 

To drown it? What is his creation, less 

Than a capacious reservoir of means, 

Form'dforhis use, and ready at his will! 

Go, dress thine eyes with eyesalve; ask of Him, 

Or ask of whomsoever he has taught; 

And learn, though late, the genuine cause of all. n 

England, with all tliy faults, I lovetbee still— 
lly country ! and, while yet a nook is left. 
Where English minds and manners may be found. 
Shall be coustrainM to love thee. Though thy cliace 
He fickle, and thy year most part deform'd 
With dripping rains, or wither'd by a frost, 
T would not yet exchange thy sullen skies, 
And fields witliout a fiow'r.for warmer France 
With all her vines : nor for Ausonia's groves 
Of golden fruitage, and her myrtle bow'rs. 
To shake thy senate, and from heights sublime 
Of patriot eloquence to flash down fire 
Upon thy foes, was never meant my task : 
But I can feel thy fortunes, and partake 
Thy joys and sorrows, with as true a heart 
As any thunfl'rer there. And I can feel 
Thy follies too ; and with a just disdain 
''"■fowij at effeminates , whose very look* 



THE TIME-HECE. 

Reflect dishonour on the land I love. 

How in the name of soldiership and sense. 

Should England prosper, when such things, as SEDOOLh 

And tender as a girl, all esseac'd o'er 

With odours, and 3i3 profligate as sweet ; 

Who sell their laurel for a myrtle wreath, 

And love when they should fight; when such as thSsQ 

Presume to lay their hand upon the ark 

Of her magnificent and awful cause ? 

Time was when it was praise and boast enough 

In ev'ry clime, and travel where we might, 

That V ;. were born her children. Praise enough 

To fill th' ambition of a private man. 

That Chatham's language was his mother-tongue, 

And Wolfe's great name compatriot with bis owi\ 

Farewell those honours, and farewell with thean 

The hope of such hereafter! They have fail'a 

Each in his field^of glory; one in arms, 

And one in council — Wolfe upon the Jaj> 

Of smiling Victory that moment won, 

And Chatham heart-sick of his country's shame ! 

They made us many soldiers. Chatham, still 

Consulting England's happiness at home, 

Secur'd it by an unforgiving frown. 

If any wrong'd her. Wolfe, where'er he fo.;;^^ : 

Put so much of his heart into his act, 

That his example had a magnet's force. 

And all were swift to follow wliom all lov'd. 

Those suns are set. O rise some other such .' 

Or all that we have left is empty talk 

Of Old achievements and despair of new. 

Now hoist the sail, and let the streamers flout 
Upon the wanton breezes, fc'trew the deck 
With lavender, and sprinlde liquid sweets, 
That no rude savour maritime invade 
The nose of nice nobility! Breathe soft, 
Ye clarionets ; and softer still, ye ilutes; 
That wjud.s and waters, lull'd by magic sounc^ 
May b«ar us smoothly tu U.t^ C":i!i:.- i-oje' 



TFIE TASK. 

True, Ks have lost an empire— let itjias":. 
True, T\e may thank the perfidy of France, 
That pick'f] the jewel out of England's crown, 
With all the cunning of an envious shrew. 
And let that pass — 'twas but a trick of state! 
A brave man knows no malice, but at cnce 
Forgets in peace the injuries of war, 
And gives his direst foe a friend's embrace. 
And, sham'd as we have been., to th' very hfartl 
Brav'd and defied, and in our own sea prov'd 
Too weak for those decisive blows that once 
ED.sur'd us mast'ry there, we yet retain 
^ome small pre-eminence; we justly beast 
At least superior jockeyship, and claim 
The honours of the lurf as all our own! 
(Jo, then, well worthy of the praise ye seek. 
And show the shame ye might conceal at home. 
In foreign eyes ! — be grooms and w in the plate, 
Where once ynurnobler fax hers won a crown '. — 
Tis gen'roiis to communicate your skill 
To those that need it. Folly is soon Icarn'd : 
' '; 1 uader such preceptors who can fail I 

There is a pleasure in poetic pain?, 
Which only poets know. The shifts and turn? 
Tb' expedients and invcrtions multiform. 
To which the mind reiorts, in chase of terms, 
Though apt, yet coy, and difficult to win — 
T' arrest the fleeting images, that fill 
The m-rrcr of the mind, and bold them fa>t, 
And force ■ hem sit, till he has pencil'd off 
A faithful likeaess of the forms he views ; 
Then to dispose his eopicb with such art. 
That each may find its most propitious light. 
And shine by situation, hardly less 
Than by the labour and the slill it cost; 
Are occupations of the poefa mind 
So pleasing, and that steal away the thought. 
With such address from themes of sad impoit, 
That, lost in his own musings, b-^pp/ man ! 



TPIE TIME-PIECE. 41 

He feels the anxieties of Jife denied 

Their wonted entertainment; all retire. 

Such joys has he that sings. But ah ! not such, 

Or seldooa such, the hearers of his song. 

Fastidious, or else listless, oi- perhaps 

Aware of nothing arduous in a task 

They never undertook, they little note 

His dangers or escapes, and haply find 

Their least amusement where he found the naosl. 

But is amusement all ? Studious of song, 

And yet ambitious not to sing in vaio, 

I would not trifle merely, though the world 

Be loudest iu their praise who do no more. 

Yet what can satire, whether grave or gay ? 

It may correct a foible, rtray chastise 

The freaks of fashion, regulate the dress, 

Retrench a sword-blade, or displace a patch; 

But where are its sublimer trophies found ? 

What vice has it subdued ? whose heart reclaim'd 

By rigour, or whom lnugh'd into reform? 

Alas ! Leviathan is not so tam'd ; 

Laugh'd at, he laughs again; and stricken hard, 

Turns to the stroke his adamantine scales, 

That fear no discipline of human hands. 

The pulpit, therefore— (and I name itfill'd 
With solemn awe, that bids me well beware 
With what intent I touch that holy thing)— 
The pulpit— (when the satirist has at last, 
Strutting and vup'ring in an empty school, 
Spent all his force, and made no proselyte)— 
1 say the pulpit (in the sober use 
Of its legitimate peculiar pow'rs) 
Must stand acknof-ledg'd, while the world shall sl;ir ' 
The most important and efTectual giiard. 
Support, and ornan>snt. of Virtue's cause. 
There stands the messenger (;/ truth ; there standi 
The legate of the rkies !— Kis theme dsviae, 
His office sacred, his credentials clear. 
By him the violated law speaks pv.t 
C 2 



42 THE TASK. 

Its thunders; and by him, in strains as sweet 

As angels use, the Gospel whispers peace. 

He 'stablishes the strong, restores the weak, 

Reclaims the wanii'rer, binds the broken heart, 

And, artn'd himself in panoply complete 

Of heav'nly temper, furnishes with arms 

Bright as his own, and trains, by every rule 

Of holy discipline, to glorious war 

The sacramenlal host of God's elect! 

Are all such teachers ? — would to Heav'n all were ! 

Eut hark — the doetot's voice I — fast wedg'd between 

Two empirics he stands, and with swoln cheeks 

Inspires the neivs, his trumpet. Keener far 

Than all invective is his bold harangue. 

While through that public organ of report 

He hails the clergy; and, defying shame. 

Announces to the tvorld his own and theirs ! 

He teaches those to read whom scliools dismiss'd, 

And colleges, untaught; sells accent, tone, 

And emphasis in score, and gives to pray'r 

Th' adagio znd andante it demands. 

He grinds divinity of other days 

Down into modern use; transforms old print 

To zigzag manuscript, and cheats the eyes 

Of gall'ry critics by a thousand arts. 

A re there who purchase of the doctor's ware ? 

O, name it not in Gath 1 — it cannot be. 

That grave and learned clerks should need such aid. 

He doubtless is in sport, and does but droll, 

Assuming thus a rank un';nown before — 

Grand caterer and dry-nurse of the chureh ! 

1 venerate the man, whose heart is warm. 
Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life, 
Coincident, exhibit lucid proof 
That he is honest in the .sacred cause. 
ToGUch I render more than mere rcpect, 
Whose actions say that they respect thenoselves. 
But loose in morals and in manners vain, 
In convsrsatioo fri-volous, in dress 



THE TIME-PIECE. 

Estreme, at once rapacious and y)rofuse ; 

Frequent in park with laclj' at liisside, 

Ambling and prattling scandal as be goes; 

But rare at home, and never at his books, 

Or with iiis pen, save when he scrawls a card; 

Constant at routs, familiar with a round 

Of ladyships, a stranger to the poor; 

Ambitious of prefermoht for its gold, 

And well prepared, by ignorance and sloth, 

By inruleiity and love of world, 

To make God's work a sinecure ; a slave 

To his own pleasures and his patron's pride ; 

From such apnstles, O ye rnitred heads, 

Preserve the church ! and lay not careless han'ds 

On skulls that cannot teach, and will not learn. 

Would I describe a preacher, such as Paul, 
Were he on Earth, would iiear, approve, and own, 
Paul should himself direct me. I ^vouid trace 
His master strokes, ai.d draw from his design. 
I would express him simple, grave, sincere; 
In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain, 
And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste, 
<»\nd natural in gesture; much inipress'd 
Himself, as conscious of his awful charge. 
And anxious mainly that the ilock he feeds 
;M;iy feel it too; affectionate in look, 
And tender in address, as well becomes 
A messenger of grace toguilty men. 
Behold the picture !— Is it like ?— Like whom ? 
The things that mount the rostrum with a skip, 
And then skip down again; pronounce a text; 
Cry— hem; and, reading what they never wrote 
.lust fifteen minuter, huddle up their work, 
And with a well-bred whisper close the scene 1 

In man or woman, but far most in man, 
And most of all in man that ministt;rs 
And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe 
Al! aficctation. 'Tij my perfect Ecorn ; 



<4 - THE TASK. 

Otyect of my implacable disgust 
What !— will a man play tricks— will he indulge 
A silly fond conceit of hi.s fair form. 
And just proportion, fashionable mien, 
Aad pretty face, in presence of his God? 
Or will he seek to dazzle ine with tropes, 
As -with the diamond on his lily hand, 
And play his brilliant parts before my eyes, 
When 1 am hungry for the bread of life ? 
He mocks his Maker, prostitutes and shames 
His nobie office, and, instead of truth, 
Displaying his own beauty, starves his flock. 
Therefore avaunt all attitude, and stare, 
And start theatric, practis'd at the glass ! 
J seek divine simplicity in him 
Vv'iio handles things divine ; and all besides, 
Though learn'd with labour, and though much adcQti'd 
By curious eyes and judgments ill-inform'd, 
To me is odious as the nasal twang 
Heard at con/enticle where worthy men. 
Misled by custom, strain celestial themes 
Through the pressed nostril, spectacle-beslrid. 
Some, decent in demeanour while they preach- 
That task perform'd, relapse into themselves; * 
And, having spoken wisely, at the close 
Grow wanton, and give proof to ev'ry eye, 
Whoe'er was edified, themselves were not! 
Forth comes the pocket-mirror. First we stroke 
An eyebrow ; next compose a straggling lock ; 
Then with an air most gracefully perform'd, 
Fall back into our seat, extend an arm. 
And lay it at its ease with gentle care, 
With handkerchief in hand depending low : 
The better hand more busy gives the nose 
Its bergamot, or aids th' indebted eye 
With op'ra glass, to watch the moving scene, 
And recognise the slow retiring fair. — 
Wow this is fulsome; and offends me more 
Than in a churchman slovenly neglect 
And rustic coarseuess would. A heavenly iq'uv^ 



THE TII\TE-PIECE. 

May be indiff'rpnt to her house of clay, 
And slight the hovel as beneath her care; 
But how a body so fantastic, trim, 
And quaint, in its deportment and attire, 
Can lodge a heav'nly mind — demands a doubt. 

He that negotiates betAveen God and man, 
As God's ambassador, the grand concerns 
Of judgment and of mercy, siiould beware 
Of lightness in his speech. 'Tis pitiful 
To court a grin, when you should woo a soul ; 
To break a jest, when pity would inspire 
Pathetic exhortation ; and t' arldress 
The skittish fancy witli facetious tales, 
When sent with God's commission to the heart ! 
So did not Paul. Direct me to a quip 
Or merry turn in all he ever wrote, 
And I consent you take it for your text, 
Your only one, till sides and benches fail. 
No : he was serious in a serious cause, 
And understood too well the weighty terms, 
That he had (a'en in charge. He would not stoop 
To conquer those by jocular exploits. 
Whom truth and soberness aasail'd in vain. 

O Popular Applause ! what heart of man 
Is proof against thy sweet seducing charms 1 
The wisest and the best feel urgent need 
Of all their caution in thy gentlest gales; 
But swell'd into a gust — who, then, alas ! 
With all his canvass set, and inexpert, 
And therefore heedless, can withstand thy pow'r? 
Praise from the rivePd lips of toothless, bald 
Decrepitude, and in tlie looks of lean 
And craving Poverty, and in the bow 
Respectful of thesmutch'd artificer. 
Is oft too welcome and may much disturb 
T)ie bias of the purpose. How much more, 
Pour'd forth by beauty splendid and polite, 
lu language soft as Adoration breatiiss'! 



^« THE TASK. 

Ah, spare your idol, think Iiim human still, 
Charms he may have, but he has frailties too L 
J)o!,e DOt too much, uor s^ oil what ye admire. 

All truth is from the sempiternal source 
Of light divine, But Egypt, Greece, and Rome, 
Drew from the stream below. More favoured, we 
-Drink when ive choose it, at the fountain head. 
To them it flow'dmuch mingled and deiil'd 
With hurtful error, prejudice, and dreams 
Illusive of philosophy, so cail'd, 
Jiut falsely. Sages after sages strove 
lu vain to filter off a crystal draught 
i'ure from the lees, v.hich often more enhancM 
The thirst than slak'd it, and not seldom bred 
Intoxication and delirium wild. 
In vain they push'd inquiry lo the birth 
And spring-time of the world ; ask'd, Whence is man? 
Why lormM at all ? and wherefore as he is 1 
Where must he find his maker? with what rites 
Adore him ? Will he hear, accept, and bless ? 
Or does he sit regardless of his works 1 
Has man within him an immortal seed ? 
Or dees the tomb take ail? If he survive 
liis ashes, where? and in ivhat weal or wo? 
Knots worthy of solution, which aione 
A Deity could solve. Tiieir an^weis, vague 
And all at random, fabulous and dark, 
Left them as dark themselves. Their rules of life, 
Defective and unsanction'd, prov'd too weak 
To bind the roving appetite, and lead 
Blind nature to a God not yet reveal'd. 
'Tis Kevelation satisfies ail doubts, 
Explains aii mysteries, except her own, 
And so illuminates the path of life 
Tliat fools discover it, and stray no more. 
iSow tell me, dij;,nilied and sapient sir, 
My man of morals, nurtur'd in the shades 
Of Aca.lemus— is this false or true 1 
IsChvietthe abler teacher, or the schools? 



THE TIME-PIECE. 47 

If Christ, then why resort at ev'ry tnrn 

To Athens or to Rome, for wisdom short 

Of man's occasions, when in him reside 

Grace, knowledge, comfort— an unfathom'd store ? 

How oft, when Paul has serv'd us with a text, 

Has Epictetus, Plato, Tully, preach'd! 

Men that, if now alive, would sit content 

And humble learners of a Saviour's worth, 

Preach it who might. Kuch was their love of trutl), 

Their thirst of knowledge, and their candour too. 

And thus it is.— The pastor either vain 
By nature, or by flatt'ry made so, taught 
To gaze at his own splendour, and t' exalt 
.ibsurdly, not liis office, but himself; 
Or unenlighten'd, and too proud to learn: 
Or vitious, and not therefore apt to teach ; 
Perverting often by the stress of lewd 
And loose example, whom he should instruct; 
Exposes, and boi<ls up to broad disgrace, 
The noblest function, and discredits much 
The brightest truths that man has ever seen. 
For ghostly counsel; if it either fall 
Below ihe exigence, or be not back'd 
With show of love, at least with hopeful proof 
Of some sincerity on the giver's part ; 
Or be dishonour'd in th' exterior form 
And mode of its conveyance, by such tricks 
As move derision, or by foppish airs 
And histrionic mumm'ry, that let down 
The pulpit to the level of the stage ; 
Drops from the lips a disregarded thing. 
The weak perhaps are mov'd, but are not taught, 
While prejudice in men of stronger minds 
Takes deeper root, confirm'd by what they see. 
A relaxation of religion's hold 
Upon the roving and untutor'd heart 
Soon follows, and, the curb of conscience snapp'd;, 
The laity run wild. Rut do they now ? 
Note their extravagance, and be convicc'd. 



-IS TliE TASK. 

As nations, ignorant of God, contrive 
A wooden one ; so we, no longer taught 
By monitors, that mother church supplies, 
^ow m-dke our own. Foiterity will ask, 
(Ife'er posterity see verse of roine,) 
Some fifty or a hundred lustriiffjs hence, 
What was a monitor in George's days] 
My verj- gentle rea'ler, yet imhorn. 
Of whom I needs must augur better things, 
Since Heav'n would sure grow weary c; a world 
Productive only of a race like ours, 
A m.onitor is wood — plank shaven thin. 
We wear it at our backs. There, closely brac'd 
And neatly fitted, it compresses hard 
The prominent and most unsightly bones, 
And binds the shoulders flat. We prove its use 
Sov'reign and most effectual to secure 
A form, not now gymnastic as of yore. 
From rickets, and distortion, else our lot. 
But thus admonish'd, we can walk erect — 
One proof at least of manhood ! while the friend 
Sticks close, a Mentor worthy of his charge. 
Our habits, costlier than Lucullus wore, 
And by caprice as multiplied as his, 
Just please us while the fashion is at full. 
But change with ev'ry moon. The sycophant, 
Who waits to dress us, arbitrates their date ; 
Surveys his fair reversion with keen eye •, 
Finds one ill made, another obsolete, 
This fits not nicely, that is ill concei v'd ; 
And, making prize of all that he condemns, 
With our expenditure defrays his own. 
Variety's the very spice of life, 
That gives it all its flavour. We have run 
Through ev'ry change, that Fancy, at the loom 
Exhausted, has had genius to supply; 
And studious of mutation still, discard 
A real elegance, a little us'd. 
For monstrous novelty and strange disguise. 
We sacri&ce to dress, till ijousehoid joys ■ 



THE TIME-PIECE. ; 

And comTorts cease. Dress drains our cellar dry, 

And keeps our larder lean ; puts out our fires; 

And introduces hunger, frost and no, 

Where peace and hospitality might reign. 

What man 1 bat lives, and that knoA^s how to live, 

Would fail t' exhibit at the public shows 

A form as splendid as the proudest there, 

Though appetite raise outcries at the co.st? 

A man o' th' tovn dines late, but soon enough, 

With reasonable forecast and despatch, 

T' ensure a side-box station at half price. 

You think, perhaps, so delicate his dress, 

His daily fare as delicate. Alas ! 

He picks clean teeth, and, busy as he seem 

With an old tavern quill, is hungry yet ! 

The rout is Folly's circle, which she dra^vs 

With magic w,and. So potent is the spell, 

That none, decoy'd into that fatal ring, 

Unless by Heav'n's peculiar grace, escape. 

There we grow early gray, but never wise ; 

There form connexions, hut acquire no friend ; 

Policit pleasure hopeless of success; 

Waste youth in occupations only fit 

For second childhood, and devote old age 

To sports, v.'hich only childhood could excusp. 

There, they are happiest who dissemble best 

Their weariness; and they the most polite, 

Who squander time and treasure with a smile. 

Though at their own destruction. She that asks 

Her dear five hundred friends, contemns them ail, 

And hates their coming. They (whait can they less ?) 

Make just reprisals ; and with cringe and shrug, 

And bow obseqiiious, hide their hate of her. 

All catch the frenzy, downward from her grace. 

Whose llambeaiix iiash against the nioi-ningFkies, 

And gild our chamtier ceilings as they pass, 

To her, who, frugal only th it her thrift 

May feed excesses slie can ill afford, 

Is hackney *d home unlackey'd; who, in haste 

Alighting, turns the key in her own riooi , 



/ 

5« THE TASK. 

And, at tbe watchman's lantern borrowing liglit, 

Finds a cold bed her only comfort left. 

Wives beggar husbands, husbands starve their wivesj 

On Fortune's velvet altar ofF'ring up 

Their last poor pittance — Fortune, nriost severe 

Of goddesses yet known, and costlier far 

Than all that held their routs in Juuo's Heav'n.— 

So fare we in this prison-house, the World ; 

And 'tis a fearful spectacle to see 

So many maniacs dancing in their chains. 

They gaze upon the links, that hold them fast, 

With eyes of anguish, execrate their lot. 

Then shake them in despair, and dance agaia ! 

Now basket up the family of plagues. 
That waste our vitals; peculation, sale 
Of honour, perjury, corruption, fraudi 
By forgery, by subterfuge of law, 
By tricks and lies as num'roas and as keen 
As the necessities their authors feel: 
Then cast them, closely bundled, ev'ry brat . 
At the right door. Profusion is the sire. 
Profusion unrestraia'd, with all that's base 
In character, has iitter'd all the land. 
And bred, within tiie mem'ry of no few, 
A priest liood, such as Baal's was of old, 
A people, such as never was till now. 
It is a hungry vice: — it eats up all 
That gives society its beauty, strengtk, 
Convenience, and security, and use : 
Makes men mere vermin, worth) to be trapp'd 
And gibbeted, as fast as catchpole claws 
Can seize the slipp'ry prey ; ja'ies the knot 
Of union, and converts the sacred band 
That holds mp.aklnd together, tr a soourse. 
Profusion, deluging a stale with iastjs 
Of grossest nature and of worst aflects, 
Prepares it for its ruin: hardens, blinds, 
And warps, the consciences of public men. 
Till thoy cau lau'^U at VirtuQ ; ujc:'ii the foals 



THE TIME-PIECi:. 51 

That trust them; and in th' end disclose a face, 
That would have shock'd Credulity herself, 
Unmask'd, vouchsafing this their sole excuse — 
Since ail alike are selfish, why not they ? 
This does Profusion, and th' accursed cause 
Of such deep mischief has itself a cause. 

In colleges and halls in ancient days. 
When learning, virtue, piety, and truth. 
Were precious, and inculcated with care, 
There dwelt a sage call'd Discipline. His hea<], 
Not yet by time completely silver'd o'er. 
Bespoke him past the bounds of freakish youth, 
But strong for service still, and unimpair'd. 
His eye was meek and gentle, and a smile 
Play'd oii his lips; and in his speech was lieard 
Paternal sweetness, dignity, and love. 
The occupation dearest to his heart 
Was to encourage goodness. He would stroke 
The head of modest and ingenuous worth, 
That blush'd at its own praise; and press the youtli 
Close to his side that pleas'd him. Learning grew. 
Beneath his care, a thriving, vig'rous plant ; 
The mind was well inform'd, the passions held 
Subordinate, and diligence was choice. 
If e'er it chanc'd, as sometimes chance it must, 
That one among so many overleap'd 
The limits of control, his gentle eye 
Grew stern, and darted a severe rebuke : 
His frown was full of terror, and his voice 
Shook the delinquent with such fits of awe, 
As left him not, till penitence had won 
Lost favour back again, and clos'd the breach. 
But Discipline, a faithful servant long, 
Declin'd at length into the vale of years : 
A palsy struck his arm ; his sparkling eye 
Was quench'd in rheums of age; his voice, unstruR^, 
Grew tremulous, and mov'd derision more 

Than rev'renoe, in perverse rebellious youtljj 

So colleges and halls ceglected rjiucb 



t-2 THE TASK. 

Their good old friend ; and Discipline at length, 
O'erlook'd mid unemploy'd, fell sick and died. 
Then S?'tiuJy languisb'd, Emulation slept, 
And Virtue Hed. The schools became a scene 
Of solemn farce, where Ignorance in stilts, 
His cap '.lell lin'd with logic not his own, 
With parrot tongue perform'd the scholar's part. 
Proceeding soon a graduated dunce. 
Then compromise had place, and scrutiny 
lieca.T3e stone blind; precedence went in truck, 
And be was competent whose purse was so. 
A dissolution of all bonds ensued; 
The curbs invented for the mulish mouth 
Of headstrong youth were broken; bars and bolts 
Grew rusty by disuse ; and massy gates 
Forgot their office, op'uing with a touch; 
Till gowns at length are found mere masquerade, 
The tassel'd cap and the spruce band a jest, 
A raock'ry of the world ! What need of these 
For gauiesters, jockeys, brothelers impure, 
Spendtlirifts, and booted sportsmen, oft'ner seen 
Witli belted waist and pointers at their heels, 
Than in the bounis of duty ? What was learn'd, 
If aught was learn'd in childhood, is forgot; 
And such expense, as pinches parents blue, 
And mortifies the lil>'ral hand of love, 
Is squander'd in pursuit of idle sports 
And vitious pleasures; buys the boy a name 
That sits a stigma on his father's house. 
And cleaves through life inseparably close 
To him that wears it. What can after games 
Of riper joys, and commerce with the worid, 
The lewd vain worhi, that must receive him soon, 
Add to such erudition, thus acquir'd. 
Where science and where virtue are profess'd ? 
They may confirm his habits, rivet fast 
fijs folly, but to spoil him is s task 
That bids defiance to th' united pow'rs 
Of fashion, dissipation, taverns, stews. 
iS'ow blame we most ttie nursli.'igs or the r.urjc? 
1 



THE TIME-PIECE. l> 

The children crook'd, and twisted, and deform'd, 
Through want of care; or her, whose winking eye 
And sliimb'ring oscitancy mars the brood ? 
The nurse, no doubt. Regardless of her charge, 
She needs herself correction; needs to learn 
That it is dang'rous sporting with the world, 
With thinjrs so sacred as a nation's trust, 
The nurture of her youth, her dearest pledge. 

All are not such. I had a brother once — 
Peace to the memory of a man of worth, 
A man of letters, and of manners too ! 
Of manners sweet as Virtue always wears. 
When gay good-nature dresses her in smiles. 
He grac'd a college,* in which order yet 
Was saered ; and was honour'd, lov'd and wept, 
By more than one, themselves conspicuous there. 
Some minds are temper'd happily, and mix'd 
With such ingredients of good sense, and taste 
Of what is excellent in man, they thirst 
With such a zeal to be what they approve. 
That no restraints can circumscribe them more 
Than they themselves by choice, for wisdom's sake. 
Nor can example hurt them : what they see 
Of vice in others but enhancing more 
The charms of virtue in their just esteem. 
If such escape contagion, and emerge 
Pure from so foul a pool to shine abroad, 
And give the world their talents and themselves, 
Small thanks to those whose negligence or sloth 
EspoB'd their inexperience to the snare, 
And left them to au undirected choice. 

See then the quiver broken and decay'J, 
In which are kept our arrows ! Rusting there 
lawild disorder, and unfit for use, 
What wonder, if, discharg'd into the world, 
They shame their shooters with a random flight, 

* BfiRe't Coll. C^.j!)ri?g«-. 



54 THE TASK. 

Their points obtuse, and feathers drank with Tpiaei 
Well may the church wage unsuccessful war 
With such artill'ry arno'tl. Vice parries vi'ide 
Th' uridreaded volley with a sword of straw, 
And stands an impudent and fearless mark. 

Have we not track'd the felon home, and found 
Eis birthplace and his dam? The country mourns, 
Mourns because ev'ry plague that can infest 
Society, and that saps and worms the base 
Of th' edifice that policy has rais'd, 
Swarms in all quarters : meets the eye. the ear^ 
And suifocates the breath at ev'ry turn. 
Profusion breeds them; and the cause itself 
Of that calamitous mischief has been found : 
Found, too, where most offensive, in the skirts 
Of the rob'd pedagogue ! Else let th' arraign'd 
Stand up unconscious, and refute the charge. 
So when the Jewish leader stretch'd his arm, 
And wav'd his rod divine, a race obscene, 
Spawn'd in the muddy beds of Nile, came forth, 
Polluting Egypt : gardens, fields, and plains, 
Were cover'd with the pest ; the streets were fill'd ; 
The croaking nuisance lurk'd in every nook; 
Jf or palaces, nor even chambers, 'scap'd; 
And the land stank— so num'rous was the fry. 



THE TASK. 



BOOK III. 



AnGu;»UiNT OF THE THIRD BOOK. 

Self-recollection and reproof.... Address to domestic happiness 
....Some account of myself.... The vanity of many of their 
pursuits, who are reputed wise. ...Justification of my censures 
....Divine illumination necessary to the most expert' philoso- 
f)iier....The question, What is truth? answered by other 
questions.... Domestic happiness addressed again.... Few lo- 
vers of the country. ...My tame hare. ...Occupations of a re- 
tired gentleman in his garden.... Pruning.. ..Frammf;.... Green- 
house. ...Sowing of flower seeds. ...The country preferable to 
the town even in the winter.... Reasons why it is deserted at 
lat season..,. Ruinous effects of gaming, and of expensive , 
p.provement., .Book ccncludes with an apostrophe to the^ 
v«ei!X)po!is. 



THE TASK. 



BOOS in. 



THE GARDEN. 



As one, who long in thickets and in brakes 
Entangled, winds now this way and now that 
.His devious course uncertain, seeking home; 
Or, having long in nairy ways been foil'd 
And sore discomfited, from slough to slough 
Plunging, and half despairing of escape; 
If chance at length he find a greensward smooth 
And faithful to the foot, his spirits rise. 
He cherups brisk his ear-erecting steed. 
And winds his way with pleasure and with ease • 
So I designing other themes, anC cail'd 
T' adorn the Sofa with aalosium due, 
To tell itsslumhers, and to paint its dreaoio, 
Have rambled wide. In country, city, seat 
Of academic fame, (however deserv'd,) 
Long held, and scarcely disengag'd at last; 
But now with pleasant pace a cleanlier road 
1 mean to tread. I feel myself at large, 
Courageous, and refresh' d for future toil, 
li toil await me, or if dangers new. 
D 



68 THE TASK. 

Since pulpits fail, and soundiog-boards reflect 
Most part an e mpty ineffectual sound, 
What chance that I, tn fame so little known, 
Nor conversant with men or manners much, 
tJhould speak to purpose, or with better hope 
Crack the satiric thong? 'Twere wiser far 
For me, enamour'd of sequester'd scenes, 
And charm'd with rural beauty, to repose 
Where chance may throw me, beneath elm or vine 
My languid limbs, when summer sears the plains ; 
Or, when rough winter rages, on the soft 
And shelter'd Sofa, while the nitrous air 
Feeds a blue flame, and makes a cheerful heartb; 
There, undisturb'd by Folly, and appriz'd 
How great the danger of disturbing her. 
To muse in silence, or at least confine 
Remarks, that gall so many, to the few 
My partners in retreat. Disgust conceaPd 
Is ofttimes proof of wisdom, when the fault 
Is obstinate, and cure beyond our reach. 

Domestic happiness, thou only bliss 
Of Paradise, that has surviv'd the fall ! 
Though few now taste thee unimpair'd and pure, 
Or tasting, long enjoy thee ! too infirm. 
Or too incautious, to preserve thy sweets 
Unmix'd with drops of bitter, which neglect 
Or temper sheds into thy crystal cup; 
Thou art the nurse of Virtue — in thine arms 
She smiles, appearing, as in truth she is, 
Heav'n-born, and destin'd to the skies again. 
Thou art not known where Pleasure is ador'd, 
That reeling goddess with the zoneless waist 
And wand'ring eyes, still leaning on the arm 
Of IVovelty, her fickle, frail support; 
For thou art meek and constant, bating change, 
And finding in the calm of truth-tried love, 
.Toys that her stormy raptures never yield. 
Forsaking thee, what shipwreck have we made 
Of honour, dignity, and fair renown! 
Till prostitution elbows as aside 



THE GARDEN. 5a 

loali our crowded streets; andsen ites seem 

Conven'd for purposes of empire less 

Than to release the adult'ress from her bond. 

Th' adultTess I what a theme for angry verse ! 

What provocation to th' indignant heart, 

That feels for injur'd love : but I disdain 

The nauseous task to paint her as she ig, 

Cruel, abaudon'd, glorying in her shame ! 

No : — let her pass, and, charioted along 

In guilty splendour, shake the public ways ; 

The irequency of crimes haswash'd them white. 

And verse of mine shall nev6r brand the wretch,. 

Whom matrons now of character unsmirch'd, 

And chaste themselves, are not asham'd too^^n. 

Virtue and vice had bound'ries in old time, 

Not to be pass'd : and she that had renounc'd 

Her sex's honour, was renounc'd herself 

By all that priz'd it; not for prud'ry's sake, 

But dignity's, resentful of the wrong. 

'Twas hard perhaps on here and there a waif, 

Desirous to return and not receiv'd : 

But was a wholesome rigour in the main, 

And taugrit th' unblemish'd to preserve with care 

That purity, whose loss was loss of all. 

Men too were nice in honour in those days, 

And judg'd offenders well. Then he that sharp'd, 

And pocketed a prize by fraud obtain'd, 

Was mark'd and shunn'd as odious. He that sold 

His country, or was slack when she requir'd 

His ev'ry nerve in action and at stretch, 

Paid with the blood that he had basely spar'd, 

The price of his default. But now— yes, now 

We are become so candid and so fair, 

So lib'ral in construction, and so rich 

In christian charity, (good natur'd age !) 

That they are safe : sinners of either sex 

Transgress what laws they may. Well dress'd, well 

bred, 
Well equipag'd, is ticket good enough, 
To pass us readily through e-v'ry door. 



60 THE TASK. 

Hypocrisy, detest her as we may, 
(And no man's hatred ever wrong'd her yet.) 
May claim this merit still— that she admits 
The worth of what she mimics, with such care, 
And thus gives virtue indirect applause; 
But she has burnt her mask, not needed here. 
Where vice has such allowance, that her shifts 
And specious semblances have lost their use. 

I was a stricken deer, that left the herd 
Ijong since. With many an arrow deep infis'd 
Mv panting side was charg'd, when I withdrew, 
To seek a tranquil death in distant shades. 
There was I found by one who had himself 
Been hurt by th' archers. In his side he bore, 
And in his hands and feet, the cruel scars. 
With gentle force soliciting the darts, 
He drew them forth, and heal'd. and bade me live. 
?ince then, with few associates, in remote 
And silent woods I wander, far from those 
My former partners of the peopled scene ; 
\V:th few associates, and not wishing more. 
Here much I ruminate, as much I may. 
With other views of men and manners now 
Than once, and others of a life to come. 
I see that all are wand'rers, gone astray 
Each in his own delusions; they are lost 
In ciiase of fancied happiness, still woo'd 
And never won. Dream after dream ensues; 
And still they dream that they shall still succeed, 
And still are disappointed. Rings the world 
With the vain stir. I sum up half mankind, 
.And add two thirds of the remaining half. 
And find the total of their hopes and fears 
Dreams, empty dreams. The million Bit as gay, 
As if created only like the fly. 
That spreads hi? motley wings in th' eye of nooOi 
To sport their season, and be se«u no more. 
The rest are sober dreamers, grave and wise. 
And pregnant with discoveries new and rare- 



THE GARDEN. 

Some write a narrative of wars, and feats 

Of lieroes little known ; and call the rant 

A history : describe the man, of whom 

His own coevals took but little note, 

And paint his person, character, and views, 

As they had known him from his mother's womb. 

They disentangle from the puzzled skein, 

In which obscurity has wrapp'd them up, 

The threads of politic and shrewd design. 

That ran through all his purposes, and charge 

His mind with meanings that he never had, 

Or, having, kept conceal'd. Some drill and bore 

The solid earth, and from the strata there 

Extract a register, by which we learn, 

That he who made ii. and reveal'd its date 

To Moses, was mistaken in its age. 

Some, more acute, and more industrious still, 

Contrive creation-, travel nature up 

To the sharp peak of her sublimc-st height. 

And tell us whence the stars; whysomo arefix'd, 

And planetary some ; what gave them iirst 

llotatioH, from what fountain flow'ci their light. 

Great contest follows, and much learnecidust 

Involves the coml<atants; each claiming truth, 

And truth disclalmnig both. Auci thus they spenil 

The little wick of life's poor shallow lamp 

In playing tricks with nature, giving laws 

To distant worlds, and trilling in iheir own. 

Is't not a pity now, that tickling rheums 

Should ever tease the lungs, and blear the sight 

Of oracles like these ? Great pity, too, 

That having wielded th' elements, and built 

A thi'usaiid system."?, each in his own way. 

They should go out in fume, and be forgot ■! 

Ah ' what is life thus spent 1 and what are they 

But frantic, who thus spend it! all for smoke — 

Eternity (or bubbles, proves at last 

A senseless bargain. When 1 see such games 

Play'd by thR creatures oi a pow'r who swears 

That he will judg-^. 'he Earili, and call the fool 

To a sharp reck'uina;, that has liy'tl in vain ; 



f.2 THE TASK. 

And when I weigb this speming wisdom well, 

And prove it in th' iufnUihle result 

So hollow and so false — I feel my heart 

Dissolve in pity, and account the learn'd. 

If this he learning most of all decciv'd. 

Great crimes alarm the conscience, hut it sleeps 

While thoughtful man isplausihly amus'd. 

De''end me. therefore, common sense, say I, 

From reveries so airy, from the toil 

Of droppin?,- buckets into emptv wells, 

And growing old in drawing nothing up! 

'Twere well, says one, sage erudite, profound, 
Terribly arch'd and aquiline his nose. 
And overbuilt with most imoendin? brows, 
Twere well, could you permit the World to live 
As the world please^: what's the World to you? 
Much I was born of woman and drew milk 
As sweet as charity from human breasts. 
I think articulate— 1 lauah and weep, 
And exercise all functions of a man. 
How then should I and any man that lives 
Re strangers to each other ? Pierce my vein, 
Take of the crimson stream meand'ring there, 
And catechise it well : apply thy glass, 
Search it. an-' orove n-iw if it be not blood 
G'on?,enial with thine own ; and, if it be, 
What ed.»e of subtlety canst thou suppose 
Keen, pnough. wise and skilful as thou art, 
To '.'t the link of brotherhood, by which 
One common Maker bound me t^- the kind! 
Trua; I am no proficient, I confess, 
Ta arts like your's- I cannot call the swift 
And perilous lizhtnin'js from the angry clouds, 
And bid them hide themselves in earth beneath; 
1 cannot analyze the air, nor catch 
The parallax of yonder luminous point, 
That seems half quench'd in the immense abySs; 
Ruch powers I boast not— neither can I rest 
A t'lleni witness of the headlong rage, 



THE GARDEN- 63 

Or heedless folly, by which thousands die, 
Bone of my bone, and kindred aouls to mine. 

God never meant that man should scale the Heavens 
By strides of human wisdom, in his works. 
Though wondrous : he commands us in his word 
To seek him rather where his mercy shines. 
The mind, indeed, enlighten'd from above, 
Views him in all; ascribe? to the grand cause 
The erand elTect ; acknuwiodges with icy 
His manner, and with rapture taste-; his style. 
But never vet did philosophic tube, 
That brings the planets home into the eye 
Of Observation, and discovers, else 
Not visible, his family of worlds, 
Discover Him that rules them: such a veil 
Hanes over mortal eyes, blind from the birth, 
And dark in thinzs divine. Full often, too. 
Our wayward intellect, the more we learn 
Of nature, overlooks her author more ; 
From instrumental causes proud to draw 
Conclusions retrograde, and mad mistake. 
But if his word once teach us — shoot a ray 
Through all the heart's dark chambers, and reveal 
Truth=> undiscern'd but by that holy light, 
Then all is plain. Philosophy, baptiz'd 
In the pure fountain of eternal love. 
Has eyes indeed; and viewins all she sees 
As meant to indicate a God to man. 
Gives him his praise, and forfeits not her own. 
Learning has borne such fruit in other days 
On all her branches .• piety has found 
Friends in the friends of science, and true pray'r 
Has flow'd from lips wet with Castalian dews. 
Such was thy wisdom. Newton, childlike sage ! 
Sagacious reader of the works of God, 
And in his word sagacious. Such^too, thine, 
Milton whose genius had angelic wings. 
And fed on manna '- And such thine, in whom 
*Jur British Themis gloried with just cans*, 



C4 THE TASK. 

Immortal Hale ! for deep discernment prais'd, 
And sound integrity, not more than fam*d 
For sanctity of manners imdefii'd. 

All flesh is grassj^and all its glory fades 
liike the fair flow'r dishevell'd in the wind; 
Riches have wings, and grandeur is a dream. 
The man we celebrate must find a tomb'. 
And we that worship hiui, ignoble graves. 
l«fothing is proof against the general curse 
Of vanity that seizes ail below. 
The only amaranthine flow'r on Earth 
Is virtue; th' only lasting treasure, truth. 
But what is truth? 'Twas Pilate's question put 
To Truth itself, that deign'd him no reply. 
And wherefore ? will not God impart his light 
To them that ask it ?— Freely— 'tis his joy, 
His glory, and his nature, to impart. 
But to the proud, uncandid, insincere, 
Or negligent, inquirer, not a spark. 
What's that which brings contempt upon a book, 
And him who writes it, though the style be neat, 
The method clear, and argument exact? 
That makes a minister in holy things 
The joy of many, and the dread of more, 
His name a theme for praise and for reproach?— 
That, while it gives us worth in God's account. 
Depreciates and undoes us in our own? 
"What pearl is it, that rich men cannot buy, 
That iearning is too proud to gather up ; 
But which tlie poor, and the despis'd of all> 
Seek and obtain, and often find unsought; 
Tell me— and 1 will tell thee what is truth. 

O friendJy to the best pursuits of man, 
Friendly to ihougbt, to virtue, and to peace, 
Doiiiestic lire in rural pieasure pass'd ! 
Fe\' know tr.y value, and few taste thy sweets ; 
Though laany boai'.. thy .'avours, andafiect 
To unierctand and choose thee for their own. 



THE GARDEN. 

U\i{ foolisb man forgoes his proper bliss. 
E'en as bis first progenitor, and quits, 
Tliougli plac'd in Taradise, (for earth has still 
Some traces of her youthful beauty left,) 
Substantial happiness for transient joy ; 
Scenes form'd for contemplation, and to nurse 
The growing seeds of wisdom; that suggest. 
By ev'ry pleasing image they present, 
Reflections such as meliorate the heart, 
Compose the passions, and exalt the mind ; 
Scenes such as these 'tis his supreme delight 
To fill with riot, and defile with blood. 
Should some contagion, kind to the poor brutes 
We persecute, annihilate the tribes 
That draw the sportsman over hill and dale, 
Fearless and rapt away from all his cares; 
Should never game- fowl hatch her eggs again, 
Nor baited hook deceive the fish's eye; 
Could jjageantry and dance, and feast and song, 
Re quell'd in all our summer-months' retreat ; 
How many self-deluded nymphs and swains, 
Who dream they have a taste for fields and grove?, 
Would find them hideous nurs'ries of the spleen, 
And crowd the roads, impatient for the town ! 
They love the country, and none else, who seek, 
For their own sake, its silence and its shade. 
Delights which who would leave that has a heart 
Susceptible of pity, or a mind 
Cultur'd and capable of sober thought, 
For all the savage din of the swift pack, 
And clamours of the field ?— Detested sport, 
That owes its pleasures to another's pain; 
That feeds upon the sobs and dying shrieks 
Of harmless nature, dumb, but yet endued 
With eloquence, that agonies inspire. 
Of silent tears and heart-distending sighs ] 
Vain tears, alas, and sighs that never find 
A corresponding tone in jovial souls ! 
Well— one at least is safe. One shelter'd hare 
Has never heard the sanguinary yell 
D 2 



«6 THE TASK. 

Of cruel man, exulting in her woes. 

Innocent partner of my peaceful home, 

Whom ten long years' experience of niy carf 

Has made at last familiar: she has lost 

Much of her vigilant instinctive dread, 

jN'ot needful here, beneath a roof like mine. 

Yes — thou DTiayst eat thy bread, and lick the band 

Tliat feeds thee; thou mayst frolick on the floor 

At ev'ning.and at night retire secure 

To thy straw couch, and slumber unalarm'd; 

For I have gain'd thy confidence, have pledg'd 

All that is human in rae, to protect 

Thine unsuspecting gratitude and love. 

If I survive thee, I will dig thy grave; 

And, Tvhen I place thee in it, sighing say, 

T knew at least one hare that had a friend.* 

How various his employments, whom the wbrid 
Calls idle ; and who justly in return 
'Esteems that busy world an idler too ! 
Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his pes, 
Delightful industry enjoy'd at home. 
And nature in her cultivated trim 
Dress'd to his taste, inviting him abroad — 
Can he want occupation who has these 1 
Will he be idle who has much t' enjoy 1 
Me therefore studious of laborious ease, 
."jN'ot slothful, happy to deceive the time, 
iiVot waste it, and aware that human life 
■fs but a loan to be repaid with use, 
When He shall call his debtors to account. 
From whom are all our blessings, business fincjs 
13'en here: while sedulous I seek t' improvei 
At least neglect not, or leave unemploy'd. 
The mind he gave me; driving it, though steCk 
Too oft, and much impeded in its work 
By causes not to be divulg'd in vain. 
To its just point — the service of mankinfl. 

♦ See the note at the enif. 



THE GARDEN. Gi 

He that attends to his interior self, 

That has a heart, and keeps it ; has a mind 

That hungers, and supplies it; and wlio seeks 

A social, not a dissipated life, 

Has business ; feels himself engag'd t^ achieve 

No unimportant, though a silent, task. 

A life all turbulence and noise may seem 

To him that leads it wise, and to be prais'd ; 

But wisdom is a pearl with most success 

."'Ought in still water, and beneath clear skies. 

lie that is ever occupied in storms, 

Or dives not for it, or brings up instead, 

Vainly industrious, a disgraceful prize. 

The morning finds the self-sequester'd naan 
Fresh for his task, intend what task he may. 
Whether inclement seasons recommend 
His warm but simple home, where he enjoys 
With her who shares his pleasures and \m heart, 
Sweet converse, sipping calm the fragrant lymph, 
Which neatly she prepares : then to his book 
Well chosen, aud not sullenly perus'd 
In selfish silence, but imparted, eft 
As aught occurs that she may smile to hear. 
Or turn to nourishment, digested well. 
Or if the garden with its many cares, 
All well repaid, demand him, be attends 
The welcome call, conscious how much the hand 
Of luhbard Labour needs his watchful eye, 
Olt loit'ring lazily, if noto'erseen. 
Or misapplying his unskilful strength. 
Nor >'oes he govern only, or direct. 
But much performs himself. No works, indeeil, 
That ask robust, tough sinews, bred to toil, 
Servile employ ; but such as may amuse, 
Not tire, demanding rather skill than force. 
Proud of his well-spread walls, he views his trees, 
That meet, no barren interval between, 
With pleasure more than e'en their fruits afford; 
Which, save himself who traiaa them, none can feel. 



iS THE TASK. 

These therefore are hi? own peculiar charge; 
.Ts'o meaner hand may discipline the shoots, 
None but his steel approach them. What is TCCaV. 
BietemperM.or has loft prolific pow'rs. 
ImpairMhyage his unrelenting hand 
Doom* to the knife : nor does he =pare the soft 
And succulent, that feeds its siant growth. 
But barren, at th' expense of neiehh'rine twigs 
Less ostentatious, and vet studded thick 
With hopeful eems. The rest, no portion left\ 
That mav discrace his art, or disappoint 
J.ariie expectation, he disi^oses neat 
At measur'd distances that air and sun, 
AdraittPd freely may afTbrd their aid. 
And ventilate and warm the snellins huds. 
Hence Summer has herric'ies. Autumn hCRce, 
And hence e'en Winter fills hi.^ withered hand 
With blushing fruits, andplecty not his own.*-' 
Fair recompense of labour well bestowM, 
And wise precaution ; which a clime so rude 
Makes needful still, whose Spring is but the cSilS 
Of churlish Uiater, in her froward moods 
DJscov'rini; much the temper of her sire. 
Vor oft, as if in her tbe stream of mild 
IVIaternal nature had revers'd its course, 
She brings her infants forth with many smiifts; 
l?ut once deliver'd. kills them witli a frowsi. 
He tfterefore, timely warn'd. him.'elf supplies 
Her want of care, screening and keeping warm 
The plenteous bloom that no rough blast may sweep 
His pirlands from the boughs. Again, as oft 
As the sun peeps, asJ vernal airs bre.^the milJ, 
Tbe fence withdrawn, he gives them ev*ry beam, 
And spreads bis hopes before the blaze of day. 

To raise the prickly and green-coated gOiird, 
Fo grateful to the palate, aad when rare 

• 'M'raturqne novo? fntctiis et non s'.ta ponTs . firs- 



TIIEGARDKX. 

>:.) covclcd, else base and disesteem'd — 

Kood for the vulgar merely — is an art 

That toilin;: aijes liave S'lt.iust nntur'd, 

And at this moment une'isay'd In oon^. 

Yet p;iiats have iiad, and fro2;s and mice, Ion;; '^tiite: 

Their eulogy ; those san? the Mantnan bard, 

And th<^se the Grecian, in ennohline strains ; 

And in thy numt-ers Phiilip'i. shineH for aye 

The solitary Rhiliinz- Pardon tljen, 

Ye "azn d'R(>f'r<ser« of poeti'* fame, 

Th' amVijtion of one meaner far, whose pow'i';, 

rre-iim'n'r an attempt not less sublime, 

Fant for the praiie o*" rtresHinR to the last^J 

Of critic appetite, no sordid fare, 

A cucumber, while costly yet and scarce. 

The stable yields a stercoraceous heap, 
Impregnated with quick fermenting; ''alts, 
And potent to resi«t the freezing b'a«t : 
For ere the beech and elm have cast their leal 
Deciduous, when now November dark 
Checks vegetation in ihp, torpid plant 
Expos'd to hh cold breatli. the ta-^k begins. 
Warily, therefore, and with prudent heed, 
He seek? a favour'd spot; that where he builds 
Th' agglomerated pile his frame may front 
The sun's meridian disk, antl at the back 
Enjoy close shelter, wall, or reeds, or hedge 
Impervious to the wind. Pirr.t hebids!^pread 
Dry fern or litter'd hay. that may imbibe 
Th' ascending damps- then leisurely impose, 
And lightly shaking it with asrile hand 
From the full fork, the saturated straw. 
What b>a»cst binds the closest form^ secure 
The shapely side, that as it rises takes, 
Byjuit degrees, an overlianjing breadth, 
Rhelt'ring the base with its projected caves ; 
Th' uplifted frame, compact at ev'ry joint, 



70 THE TASK. 

And overlaid with clear translucent glaes, 

He settles next upon the sloping mount, 

Whose sharp declivity shoots off secure 

From the dash'd pane the deluge as it falls. 

He shuts it close, and the first labour ends. 

Thrice must the voluble and restless Earth 

Spin round upon her axle, ere the warmth, 

Slow gath'ring in the midst, through the square mass 

Diffus'd attain the surface : when, behold ! 

A pestilent and most corrosive steam, 

Like a gross fog Uoeotian, rising fast. 

And last condens'd upon the dewy sash, 

Asks egress ? which obtain'd, the overcharg'd 

And drench'd conservatory breathes abroad, 

In volumes wheeling slow the vapour dank; 

And, purified, rejoices to have lost 

Its foul inhabitant. But to assuage 

Th' impatient fervour, which it first conceives 

Within its reeking bosom, threat'ning death 

To his young hopes, requires discreet delay. 

Experience, slow preceptress, teaching oft 

The way to glory by miscarriage foul. 

Must prompt him, and admonish how to catch 

Th' auspicious moment, when the temper'd heat, 

Friendly to vital motion, may afford 

Soft fomentation, anu invite tlie seed. 

The seed, selected wisely, plumi/, and smooth, 

And glossy, he commits ;o pots oi size 

Diminutive, wellfiHd with wellprepar'd 

And fruitful soil, thai has been treasur'd long, 

And drank no moisture horn the dripping cloudsi 

These on the warm and genial earth that hides 

The smoking manure, and c'erspreads it all, 

He places lightly, and, as time subdues 

The rageol fermentation, plunges deep 

In Hie soft meujum, till they stand immers'd. 

Then rise the tender germs, upstarting quick 

And spreading wide their spongy lobes; at first 

Pale, wan, and livid ; but assuming soon, 

If faan'd by balmy and nutritious air, 



THE GARDEN. 71 

Strain'd through the friendly atats, a vivid green. 

Two leaves produc'd, two rough indented leaves, 

Cautious he pinches from the second stalk 

A pimple that portends a future sprout, 

And interdicts its growth. Thence straight succeed 

The branches, sturdy to his utmost wish ; 

Prolific all, and harbingers of more. 

The crowded roots demand enlargement now, 

And transplantation in an ampler space. 

Indulg'd in what they wish, they soon supply 

Large foliage, overshadowing golden flow'rs, 

Blown on the summit of the apparent fruit. 

These have their sexes; and whan summer shines, 

The bee transports the fertilizing meal 

From flow'r to flow'r, and e'en the breathing air 

Wafts the rich prize to its appointed use. 

Xot so when winter scowls. Assistant Art 

Then acts in Nature's office, brings to pass 

The glad espousals, and ensures the crop. 

Grudge not, ye rich, (since Luxury must have 
His dainties, and the World's more num'rous half 
Lives by contriving delicates for you,) 
Grudge not the cost. Ye little know the cares, 
The vigilance, the labour, and the skill, 
That day and night are exercis'd, and hang 
Upon the ticklish balance of suspense, 
That ye may garnish your profuse regales 
With summer fruits brought forth by wintry subs. 
Ten thousand dangers lie in wait to thwart 
The process. Heat, and cold, and wind, and steam, 
"Moisture and drought, mice, worms, and swarming 

flies, 
Minute as dust, and numberless, oft work 
Dire disappointment, that admits no cure. 
And which no care can obviate. It were long, 
Too long, to tell th' expedients and the shifts, 
Which he that fights a season so severe 
Devises while he guards his tender trust ; 
And oft at last in vain. The leara'd and wise 



72 THE TASK. 

Sarcastic Tvould exclaim, and judge tiie song 
Cold as its theme, and like its theme the fruit 
Of too much labour, worthless when produc'u. 

Who loves a garden loves a green-house too 
Unconscious of a less propitious clime, 
There blooms exotic beauty, warm and snug, 
While the winds whistleand the snows descend. 
The spiry myrtle with unwith'ring leaf 
Shines there, and flourishes. The golden boasl 
Of Portugal and western India there, 
The ruddier orange, and the paler lime, 
Peep through their polish'd foliage at the storm, 
And seem to smile at what they need not fear. 
The amomum there with intermingling flow'rs 
And cherries hangs her twigs. Geranium boasts 
Her crimson honours; and the spangled beau, 
Ficoides glitters bright the winter long. 
All plants, of ev'ry leaf, that can endure 
The winter's frown, if screen'd from his shrewd bite, 
Live there, and prosper. Those Ausonia claims, 
Levantine regions these; th' Azores send 
Their jessamine, her jessamine remote 
Caffraia : foreigners from many lands, 
They form one social shade, as if conven'd 
Hy magic summons of th' Orphean lyre. 
Yet just arrangement, rarely brought to pass 
But by a master's hand, disposing well 
The gay diversities of leaf and flow'r, 
Must lend its aid t' illustrate all their charms, 
And dress the regular yet various scene. 
Plant behind plant aspiring, in the van 
The dwarfish, in the rear retir'd, but still 
Sublime above the rest, the statelier stand. 
?o once were rang'd the sons of ancient Rome, 
A noble show ! while Roscius trod the stage; 
And so, while Garrick, as renown'd as he. 
The sons of Albion ; fearing each to lose 
Some note of Nature's music from his lips. 
And covetous of Sbakspeare's beauty, seen 



THE GARD£:>\ 73 

In ev'ry flash of his far-beaming eye. 
Hot taste alone and well-coalriv'd display 
Suffice to give the marshall'd ranks the grace 
Of their complete efiect. Much yet remains 
Unsung, and many cares are yet betund, 
And more laborious; cares on which depend 
Their vigour, injur'd soon, not soon restor'd. 
The soil must be renew'd, which often wash'd 
Loses its treasure of salubrious salts, 
And disappoints the roots ; the slender roots 
Close interwoven, where they meet the vase 
Must smooth be shorn away; the sapless branch 
Must fly before the knife; thewither'd leaf 
Must be detach'd, and where it strews the floor 
Swept with a woman's neatness, breeding else 
Contagion and disseminating death. 
Discharge but these kind offices, (and who 
Would spare, that loves them, offices like these ?) 
Well they reward the toil. The sight is pleas'd, 
The scent regal'd, each odorif 'rous leaf, 
Each op'ning blossom, freely breathes abroad 
Its gratitude, and thanks him with its sweets. 

So manifold, all pleasing in their kind, 
All healthful, are th' employs of rural life. 
Reiterated as the wheel of time 
Runs round ; still ending, and beginning still. 
Uor are these all. To deck the shapely knoll, 
That softly sweli'd and gayly dress'd appears 
Aflow'ry island, from the dark green lawn 
Emerging, must be deem'd a labour due 
To no mean hand, and asks the touch of taste. 
Here also grateful mixture of weil-match'd 
And sorted hues, (each giving each relief, 
And by contrasted beauty shini.ng more,) 
Is needful. Strength may wield ihe pond'rous spade, 
May turn the clod, and wheel the compost home; 
But elegante, chief grace the garoen shows. 
And most attractive, is the fair result 
Of thought, the creature of a polish'd mind. 



74 THE TASK. 

Without it all js KOthic as the scene 

To which th' insipid citizen re''orts 

Kear yonder heath: where industry mispent, 

But proud of his uncouth, ill-chosen task. 

Has made a Heav'n on Earth: with suns and moons 

Of close-ramtn'd stones has charg'd th' encumber'd 

soil. 
And fairly laid the zodiac in the dust. 
He, therefore, whorrould see his flow'rs dispos'd 
Sightly and In just order, ere he elves 
The beds the trusted treasure of their seeds, 
Forecasts the future whole : that when the seen* 
Shall break into its preconceiv'd display, 
Each for itself and all as with one voice 
Conspiring, mav attest his bright design. 
Nor even then, dismissing: as perform'd, 
His pleasant work mav he suppose it done. 
Few self-supported fiow'rs endure the wind 
UniniurM. but ex ect th' upholding aid 
Of the ^mooth-shaven prop. and. neatly tied, 
Are wedded 'hus, like beauty to old age. 
For int'rest sake, the living to the dead. 
Some clothe the soil that feeds them, far diffus'd 
And lowly creeping, modest and yet fair. 
Like virtue, thriving most where littleseen: 
Some more aspirin ' catch the neighbour shrub 
With clasping tendrils, and invest his branch, 
Else unadoru'd. with many a gay festoon 
And fragrant chaplet. recompensing well 
The strength they borrow with the grace they lend. 
All hate the rank society of weeds, 
Noisome, and ever greedy to exhaust 
Th' impov'rish'd earth: an overbearing race, 
That, like the multitude made faction mad, 
Disturb good order, and degrade true worth. 

O blest seclusion from a jarring world. 
Which he. thus occupied, enjoys' Retreat 
Cannot indeed to guilty man restore 
Lost incocence; or cancel follies past •. 



THE GARDEN. fS 

But it lias peace, and much secures the mind 

From all asf^aults of evil : proving still 

A faithful harrier, not o'erleap'd with ease 

By vitious Custom, raging uncontroll'd 

Abroad, and desolating; puWio life. 

When fierce Temptation, .^^econded within 

By traitor Appetite, and arm'd with darts 

Temper'd in Hell, invades the throbbing breast, 

To combat may be glorious, and success 

Perhaps may crowu us ; but to Qv is safe. 

Had T the choice of sublunary good, 

What could 1 wish, that I possess not here ? 

Health, leisure, means t' improve it. friendship, peap^ 

No Ioo?e or wanton, though a wand'ring muse, 

And constant occupation without care. 

Thus blest I draw a picture of that bliss; 

Hopeless indeed, that dissipated minds, 

And profligate abusers of a world 

Created fair so much in vain for them. 

Should seek the guiltless joys that I describe, 

AUur'd hy mv report ; But sure no less, 

That self-condemn'd they must neglect the j>Ti2,€j;, 

And what Ihey will not taste must yet approve. 

What we admire we praise: and when we praise 

Advance it into notice, that, its worth 

Acknowledg'd. others may admire it too. 

I therefore recommend, though at the risk 

Of popular di.spjist. vet boldly still. 

The cause of pletv and sacred truth. 

And virtue, and those scenes which God ordaio'd 

Shoul<l best secure them, and promote them most ; 

Scenes that I love. an<i with regret perceive 

Forsaken, or through folly not en.ioy'd. 

Pure is tbe nymph tbouth lih'ral of her smiles, 

Ar.d chaste, tlioush unconfin'd, whom 1 extol. 

Not as the prince in Shiishan, when he call'd, 

Vainglorious of her charms, his Vashti forth. 

To grace the full pavilion. His design 

Was but to boast his own peculiar good. 

Which all might view with envy, none partake. 



7G THE TASK. 

My charmer is not mine alone; my sweets, 

And she that sweetens all my bitters too, 

Nature, enchanting Nature, in whose form 

And lineaments divine I trace a hand 

That errs not, and find raptures still renew'd, 

Is free to all men — universal prize. 

Strange that so fair a creature should yet want 

Admirers, and be destin'd to divide 

With meaner objects e'en the few she finds I 

Stripp'd of her ornaments, her leaves and flow'rs, 

She loses all her influence. Cities then 

Attract us, and neglected Nature pines 

Abandon'd as unworthy of our love. 

But are not wholesome airs, though unperfum'd 

By roses ; and clear suns, though scarcely felt; 

And groves, if unharmonious, yet secure 

From clamour, and whose very silence charms ; 

To be preferr'dto smoke, to the eclipse, 

That metropolitan volcanoes make, 

Whose btygian throats breathe darkness all day long; 

And to the stir of Commerce, uriving slow, 

And thund'ring loud, with his ten thousand wheels? 

They would be, were not madness in the head, 

And foliy in the heart; were England now, 

What England was, plain, hospitable, kind. 

And uudebauch'd. But we have bid farewell 

To all the virtues of those better days. 

And all their honest pleasures. Mansions once 

Knew their own masters; and laborious hinds, 

Who had survived the father, serv'd the son. 

Now, the legitimate and rightful lord 

Is but a transient guest, newly arriv'd. 

And fcoon to be supplanted. He that saw 

His patrimonial timber cast its leaf. 

Sells the last scantling, ami transfers the price 

To some shrewa sharper, ere it buds again. 

Estates are landscapes, gaz'd upon a while, 

Then auvertis'd, auo auctioneer'd away. 

The country starves, anu they that feed th' o'erchars'd 

Aad surfeited itwU towa with her fair dues, 



THE GARDEN. '7 

Ry a just judgment strip and starve themselves. 

The wings that waft our riches out of sight. 

Grow on the gamester's elbows, and th' alert 

And nimble motion of those restless joints, 

That never tire, soon fans them all away. 

Improvement, too, the idol of the age, 

Is fed with many a victim. liO, he comes ! 

Th' omnipotent magician. Brown, appears ! 

Down falls the venerable pile, th' abode 

Of our forefathers— a grave whisker'd race, 

But tasteless. Springs a palace in its stead, 

But in a distant spot; where more expos'd 

It may enjoy th' advantage of the north. 

And aguish east, till time shall have transform'*! 

Those naked acres to a shelt'ring grove. 

He speaks. The lake in front becomes a lawn ; 

Woods vanish, hills subside, an<l valleys rise : 

And streams, as if created for his use, 

Pursue the track of his directing wand, 

Sinuous or straight, now rapid and now slow, 

Now murra'ring soft, now roaring in cascades— 

E'en as he bids ! Th' enraptur'd owner,smiles. 

'Tls finish'd, and yet, finish'd as it seems, 

Still wants a grace, the loveliest it could show, 

A mine to satisfy th' enormous cost. 

Drain'd to the last poor item of his wealth, 

He sighs, departs, and leaves th' accomplish'd plan 

That he has touch'd, retouch'd, many a long day 

Labour'd, and many a night pursu'd in dreams, 

Just when it meets his hopes, and proves the Heav'fi 

He wanted, for a wealthier to enjoy ! 

And now perhaps the glorious hour is come. 

When, having no stake left, no pledge t' endear 

Her int'rests, or that gives her sacred cause 

A moment's operation on his love, 

He burns with most intense and flagrant zeal, 

To serve his country. Ministerial grace 

Deals him out money from the public chest; 

Or, if that mine be shut, some private purse 

Supplies his need with a usurious loant 



'3 THE TASK. 

To be refunded duly, when his vote 
VVell-manag'd shall have earn'd its worthy price. 
O innocent, compar'd with arts like these. 
Crape, and cock'd pistol, and the whistling ball 
Sent through the trav'ller's temples ! He that ficJs 
One drop ot Heav'n's sweet mercy in his cup, 
Can dig, beg, rot, and perish, well content, 
So be may wrap himself in honest rags 
At his ia5t gasp ; but could not for a world 
Fish up his, dirty and dependent bread 
From pools and ditches of the commonwealth^ 
ifordid andsick'ningat his own success. 

Ambition, av'rice, penury, incurr'd, 
By endless riot, vanity, the lust 
Of pleasure and variety, despatch 
As duly as the swallows disappear, 
The world of wand'ring knights and squires to towa. 
London ingulfs them all ! The shark is there, 
And the shark's prey ; the spendtnrift, and the leech 
That sucks him : there the sycophant, and he 
Who, with bareheaded and obsequious bows, 
Kegs a warm office, doom'd to a cold gaol 
And groat per diem, if his patron frown. 
The levee swarms, as if in golden pomp 
Were character'd on ev'ry statesman's door, 
" Batter'd and bankrupt fortunes mended 

HERE." 

These are the charms that sully and eclipse 
The charms of nature. 'Tis the cruel gripe, 
That lean, hard-handed Poverty inflicts, 
The hope of better things, the chance to wia, 
The wish to shine, the thirst to be amus'd, 
That at the sound of Winter's hoary wing 
Unpeople all our countries of such herds 
Of fiutt'ring, loit'ring, cringing, begging, loose, 
And wanton vagrants, as make London, Tast 
And bcjntJless as -t is, a crowded coop. 



THE GARDEN. 73 

thou resort and mart of all the Earth, 
Checker'd with all complexions of mankind, 
And spotted with all crimes ; in whom I see 
Much that I love, and more that I admire, 
And all that I abhor ; thou freckled fair, 
That pleasest and yet shock'st me ! I can laugh, 
And I can weep, can hope, and can despond, 
Feel wrath and pity, when I think on thee ! 
Ten righteous would have sav'd a city once, 
And thou hast many righteous. — Well for thee — 
That salt preserves thee; more corrupted else, 
And therefore more obnoxious, at this hour, 
Than Sodom in her day had pow'rto be. 
For whom Go^ heard his Abr'ham plead in valii. 



THE TASK. 



BOOK IV. 



ARGUMENT OF THE FOURTH BOOK. 

The pest comes in. ...The newspaper is read. ...The World con- 
tcmplated at a distance.. ..Address to Winter.. ..The rural 
amusements of a winter evening compared with the fashion- 
able ones. ...Address to evening... .A brown study. ...Fall of 
snow in the evening.... The wagoner.... A poor family piece 

,...The rural thief.... Public houses The multitude of them 

censured. ...The farmer's daughter : what she was.... what she 
is. ...The simplicity of countr}' m.anners almost lost.... Causes 

<r.f the change.... Desertion of the country by the rich 

Neglect of magistrates.... The militia principally in fault.... 
The new recruit and his transformation. ...Reflection on 
bodies corporate. ...The love of rural objects natural to all. 
and ntver to be totally extinguisTiea. 



THE TASK. 



BOOK IV. 



THE WINTER EVENING. 



Hark ! 'tis the twanging horn o'er yonder bridge 
That with its wearisome but needful len^' h ° ' 
Bestrides the wint'ry flood ; in which the moon 
Sees her unwrinkJed face reflected bright-— 
He comes, the herald of a noisy world^ 
With spatter'd boots, strapp'd waist, and frozen Jock« 
-News from all nations lumb'riug at his back 
True to his charge, the close-pack'd load behind 
Yet careless what he brings, his one concern 
Is to conduct it to the destin'd ion; 
^ And. having dropp'd th' expected bag, pass on 
He whistles as hegoes, light-hearted'wretch 
Cold and yet cheerful: messenger of grief ' 
Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some; 
To him indilf'rent whether grief or joy. ' 
Houses in ashes, and the fatlof stocks, 
Births, deaths, and marrisires, epistles' wet 
With tears, that trickled down the writer's cheeks 
Fast as the periods from his fluent quill, ' 
()r charg'd with am'rous sighs of absent swajW 
Or nymphs responsive, equally affect 
His horse and him, unconscious of them .1. 
But 0, th' important budget ! usher'd in 
With such heart-shaking music, who can say 
IVhat are its tidings? have our troops awaI;M ? 
Or do they still, as if with opium drugg'd, 



U THE TASK. 

Snore to the murmurs of th' Atlantic wave ! 
is India free ! and does she wear her plum'd 
And jeT^ell'd turban vxih a smile of peace, 
Or do v;e grind her still ? Tae grand debate, 
The popular harangue, the tart reply. 
The logic, and the wi^dona, and the -.Tit, 
And the loud laugh — I long to know them all ; 
1 burn to set th' imprison'd wranglers free, 
And give them voice and utterance once again, 

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, 
I,et fail the curtains, -wheel the sofa round, 
And, while the bubbling and loud hissing urn 
Throws up a steamy coluina, and the cups. 
That cheer but uot inebriate, wait on each, 
So let us welcome peaceful ev'ning in. 
jSot such his ev'ning, who with shining face 
Sweats in the crowded theatre, and, squeez'd 
And bor'd with elbow points through both his sides, 
Outscolds the ranting actor on the stage : 
Nor his, who patient stands till his feet throb, 
And Lis head thumps, to feed upon the breath 
Of patriots, bursting with heroic rage, 
Or placemen, all tranquillity and s.miles. 
TllJs folio of four pages, happy work! 
Which not e'en critics criticise; that holds 
Inquisitive attention, while 1 read. 
Fast bound in chains of siloace. which the fair. 
Though eloquent themselves, yet fear to break; 
What is it, but a map of busy life. 
Its iiuctuations, and its ast concerns ? 
Here runs the mountainous and craggy ridge, 
That tempts Ambition. On the summit see 
The seals of office glitter in his eyes; 
He climbs, be pants, he grasps them ? At his heels, 
Cio e at his heels, a demagogue ascends, 
And with a dext'rous jerk soon twists him down, 
And wins them, but to lo?e them in his turn. 
Here rills of oiiy eloquence, in soft 
Bleandevs. lubricate the course they take; 
The modest speaker is asham'd and griev'd, 



THE WINTER EVENING. 

T' engross a moment's notice; and yet bef^s, 

Begs a propitious ear for his poor thoughts. 

However trivial all tiiat he conceives. 

Sweet bashfulness; it claims at least this praise: 

The dearth of information and good sense 

That it foretells us always comes to pass. 

Cat'racts cf declamation thunder here ; 

There forests of no meaning spread the page, 

In which all compreiiension wanders, lost ; 

While fields of pleasantry amuse us there 

With merry descants on a nation's woes. 

The rest appears a wilderness of strange 

But gay confusion ; roses for the cheeks, 

And lilies for the brows of faded age, 

Teeth for the toothless, ringlets for the bald, 

Heav'n. earth, and ocean, plunder'd of their sweet?j 

Nectareous essences, Olympian dews, 

Sermons, and city feasts, and fav'rite airs, 

.ethereal journeys, submarine exploits, 

And Katterfeito, with his hair on end 

At his own wonders, wond'ring for Lis bread. 

'Tis pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat. 
To peep at such a world ; to see the stir 
Of the great Dabel and not feel the crowd; 
To hear the roar she sends through all her gates 
At a safe distance where the dying sound 
Falls a soft murmur on th' uninjur'd ear. 
Thus sitting, and surveying thus at ease 
The globe and its concerns, I seem advanc'd 
To some secure ami more tiian mortal iieight. 
That liberates and exempts me from them all. 
It turns submitted to my view, turns round 
With all its generations; I behold 
Th« tumult, and am still. The sound of war 
Has lost its terrors ere it reaches me ; 
Grieves, but alarms me not. I mourn the prid* 
And av'rice that make aian a wolf to man ; 
Hear the faint echo of those brazen throats, 
By which he speaks the language of his hei^s t, 
Anil sigh, but never tremble at the soucd. 



8tJ THE TASK. 

He travels and expatiates, as the bee 
From flowVto flow'r, so he from land to landj 
1 he Qiauners, customs, policy, of all 
Pay contribution to the store he gleans ; 
He sucks intelligence in ev'ry clime. 
And spreads the honey of his deep researcli 
At his return — a rich repast for me. 
He travels, and I too. 1 tread his deck. 
Ascend his topmast, through his peering eyes 
Discover countries, with a kindred heart 
Suffer his woes, and share in his escapes; 
While fancy, like the finger of a clock. 
Runs the great circuit, and is still at home. 

O Winter, ruler of th' inverted year, 
Thy scatter'd hair with sleet-like ashes fiU'd, 
Thy breath congeal'd upon thy lips, thy cheeks 
FringM with a beard made white with other snows 
Than those of age, thy forehead wrapp'd in clouds, 
A leafless branch thy sceptre, and thy throne 
A sliding car, indebted to no wheels. 
But urg'd by storms along its slipp'ry way, 
1 love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st, 
And dreaded a.« thou art ! Thou hold'st the sua 
A ptis'ner in the yet imdawning east, 
Short'niug his journey between morn and noon, 
And hurrying him, impatient of his stay, 
Down to the ro'jy west ; but kindly still 
Compensating his loss with added hours 
Of social converse and instructive ease, 
And gath'ring. at short notice, in one groujp 
The family dispers'd a:id fixing thought, 
Not les' dispers'd by daylight and its cares. 
1 crown thee king of intimate delights, 
Fireside rnjoymonts. homeborn happiness, 
And all the comforts that the lowly roof 
Of undisturb'd Retirement, and the hours 
Of long uninterrupted ev'ning know. 
Iv'o rattling wheels stop short before these gates; 
No powder'd pert proficient in the art 
OfiouQ li.^z sn ala.m u;sault.s these 'ioors 



THE WINTER EVENING. 87 

Till the street rings; no stationary steeds ** ■'^ 

Cough their own knell, while, heedless of the sound, 

The silent circle fan themselves, and quake; 

But here the needle plies its busy task. 

The pattern grows, the well depicted flow'r, 

Wrought patiently into the snowy lawn, 

Unfolds its hosom ; buds, and leaves, and sprigs, 

And curling tendrils, gracefully dispos'd, 

Follow the nimble finger of the fair ; 

A wreath, that cannot fade, of flow'rs that blow 

With most success when all beside decay. 

The poet's or historian's page by one 

Made vocal for tli' amusement of the rest; 

The sprightly lyre, whose treasure of sweet sounds 

The touch from many a trembling chord shakes out; 

And the clear voice symphonious, yet distinct, 

And in the charming st«ife triumphant still, 

Beguile the night, and set a keener edge 

On female industry: the threaded steel 

Flies swiftly, and unfelt the task proceeds. 

The volume clos'd, the customary rites 

Of the last meal commence. A Roman meal ; 

Such as the mistress of tlie world once found 

Delicious, when her patriots of high note, 

Perhaps by moonlight, at their humble doors, 

And under an old oak's domestic shade, 

Enjoy'd, spare feast ! a radish an,! an egg. 

Discourse ensues, not trivial, yet not dull. 

Nor such as with a frown forbids the play 

Of fancy, or proscribes the sound of mirth: 

Nor do we madly, like an impious World, 

Who deem religion frenzy, and the God 

That made them an intruder on their joys. 

Start at his awful name, or deem his praise 

A.i'»rring note. Themes of a graver tone, 

Exciting oft our gratitude and love, 

While we retrace with Mem'ry's pointing wand, 

That calls the past to our exact review, 

The dangers we have 'scaped, the broken snare, 

The disappoiated foe, dellv'rance found 



i>^ THE TASK. 

Uiilook'd for, life preserv'd, and peace rcstor'd— 

Fruits cf omnipotent eternal love. 

O ev'iiings worthy of the gods! exclaimed 

The Sabine bard. O ev'nings, I reply. 

More to be priz'd and coveted than your's, 

As more illumin'd, ^id t\ itli nobler truths, 

That I, and mine, and those we love, enjoy. 

Is Winter hideous in a garb like this 1 
IVeeds he the tragic fur, the smoke of lamps, 
The pent-up breath of an unsav'ry throng, 
To thaw him into feeling; or thesmart 
And snappish dialogue, that flippant wits 
Call comedj-, to prompt him with a smile ? 
The self-complacent actor, when he views 
(Stealing a sidelOEg glance at a full house) 
The slope of faces, from the flgor to th' roof, 
(As if one master spring controll'd them all,) 
Relax'd into a universal grin, 
J?ee5 not a count'nance there, that speaks of joy 
Half so refin'd or so sincere as our's. 
Cards were superfluous here, with all the tricks 
That idleness has ever yet contriv'd 
To till the void of an unfurnishM brain. 
To palliate tlulness, and give time a shove. 
Time, a> he passes us, has a dove's wing, 
UnsoiPd, and swift, and of a silken sound; 
But the world's Time is Time in masquerade! 
Their's, should 1 i)aint him, has his pinions fledg'd 
With motley plumes; and, where the peacock shows 
His azure eyes, is tinctur'd black and red 
With spots quadrangular of diamond form, 
Eusanj^uiu'd heart?, clubs typical of strife. 
And spades, the emblem of untimely graves. 

hat sliould be, and what was an hourglass once, 
becomes a liicelmx, and a billiard mace 
Well does the work of his destructive sithe. 
Thus .ierk'd, he charms a World whom Fa^Vncn blinds 
To his true worth, mo^t plea->'d when idle must; 
Whose ODly happy, aie their wasted hours. 



THE WINTER EVKiVlNO. 

E'en misses, at whose age their mothers wore 
The hacicstriiig and the hWi, assumo the dress 
Of womanhootl. sit impils in the school 
Of CHtd-devolcd Time, anil,iii2ht by night, 
riac't] at some vacant corner of the hoard, 
I.carn ev'ry trick, and soon play all the j;anie. 
Hut truce with censure, llovjng as I rove. 
Where ^'hall 1 find an end, or how proceed ? 
As he that travels far oft turns aside. 
To view Rome rugged rock or inonld'ring tow'r. 
Which seen. deliji,hts him not; then coming home, 
Descrihes and prints it, that the world rnay know 
How far he 'vent for wiiat was nothing worth : 
!"'o I, wilh brush in hand ami pallet spread. 
With colours mix'd for a far dilV'rent use, 
I'aint cards, and dolls, and ev'ry idle thing, 
That Fancy finds ia her excursive flights. 

Come Ev'ning,once again, season of peace; 
lleturn, sweet Ev'ning, and continue long ! 
Methinks I see thee in the streaky west. 
With matron step slow-moving, while the A'i_'i;t 
Treads on thy sweeping train; one hand cnaploy'd 
In letting fall the curtain of repose 
On l)ird and beast, the other charg'd for man 
With sweet oblivion of the cares of day : 
Not sumi)tuously adorn'd, nor needing aid, 
liike hoinely-featur'd Night, of clust'ring gems; 
A star or two, just twinkling on thy brois', 
?\itHces thee; save that the moon is thine 
No less than hcr's, not worn indeed on high 
With ostentatious (tagcantry, but set 
With modest grandeur in thy purple zone. 
Resplendent less, but of an ampler round. 
Come then, and thou shalt find thy vot'ry calm, 
Or make me so. Composure is thy gift: 
Anti, whether I devote thy gentle hours 
To books, to muL.ic or the poet's toil; 
To weaving nets fur bird alluring fruit; 
Or twining silken threads round iv'ry reels, 
e2 



S0 THE TASK. 

When they command -whom man was born to please ■ 
I slight thee not, but make thee welcome still. 

Just when our drawing rooms begin to blaze 
'A ith lights, by clear reflection multiplied 
From many a mirror, in which he of Gath, 
Goliah, might have seen his giant bulk 
Whole \v it hout stooping, tow'ring crest and all, 
^ly pleasures, too, begin. But me, perhaps, 
The glowing hearth may satisfy a while 
Vt^jth faint illitmination, that uplifts 
The shadows to the ceiling, there by fits 
Dancing uncouthly to the quiv'ring flame, 
Not undelightfiil is an hour to me 
So spent in parlour twilight : such a gloom 
Suits well the thoughtful or unthinking mind, 
The mind contemplative, with some new theme 
Pregnant, or indi?pos'd alike to all. 
£iaiighye. who boast your more mercurial pow'r?, 
That never feel a stupor, know no pause, 
Nor need one : I am conscious, and confess 
Fearless, a soul that does not always think. 
Me oft has Fancy, ludicrous and wild, 
Sootii'd with a waking dream of houses, tow'rs. 
Trees, churches, and strange visages, express'd 
In the red cinders, while with poring eye 
1 gaz'd, mysef creating what 1 saw. 
"JNTor less amus'd have I quiescent watch'd 
The sooty films that play upon the bars 
Tendulous, and foreboding in the view 
Of superstition, prophesying stil), 
Though still deceiv'd. some stranger's near apfreac'b, 
'Tis thus the understanding takes repose 
In iniJolent vacuity of thought, 
And ^■ieep3 and is refresh'd. Meanwhile the face 
Conceals the mooi) lethargic with a mask 
Gf deep deliberation, as the man 
V/ere ta^k'd to his full strength, absorb'd and lost. 
Thus oft, reciin'd at ease, 1 lose an hour 
At ev'ning, till at length the freezing blast 
Tuat sweeps the bolted shutter, sumnaoas home 



THE WINTER EVENING. 95 

The recollected pow'rs; and, snapping short 
The lilassy threads, with which the Fancy weaves 
Her brittle toys, restores me to myself. 
How calm is my recess; and how the frost, 
Raging abroad, and the rough wind, endear 
The silence and the warmth enjoy'd within I 
I saw the woods and fields at close of day, 
A variegated show; the meadows green. 
Though faded; and the lands, where lately wav'd 
The golden harvest, of a mellow brown, 
llpturn'd so lately l>y the forceful share. 
H saw far oiVthe weedy fallows smile 
With verdure not unprofitable, graz'd 
lly flocks, Hist feeding, and selecting each 
His fav'rite herb; while all the leafless groves 
That skirt th' horizon wore a sable hue, 
iScarce notic'd in the kindred dusk of eve. 
To-morrow brings a change, a total change 1 
"Which even now, though silently perlorm'd 
And slowly, and by most unfelt, the face 
Of universal nature undergoes. 
Fast falls a fleecy show'r : the downy flakes 
Descending, and with never-ceasing lapse. 
Softly alighting upon all below, 
Assimilate all objects. Earth receives 
<jiadly the thick'ning mantle; and the green 
And tender blade, that fear'd the chilling bla.s'c, 
Escapes unhurt beneath so warm a veil. 

In such a world, so thorny, and where none 
Finds happiness unblighted, or, if found, 
Without some thistly sorrow at its side; 
It seems the part of wisdom, and no ^iii 
Against the law of love, to measure lots 
With less distinguish'd than ourselves ; that thus 
We may with patience bear our moderate ills, 
And sympathize with others suif'ring more. 
Ill fare- the trav'ller now, and he that stalks 
In pond'rous boots beside his reeking team. 
The wain goes heavily, impeded sore 



92 THE TASK. 

By congregated loads adhering close 

To the clogg'd wheels ; and in its sluggish pace 

Noiseless appears a moving hill of snow. 

The toiling steeds expand the nostril wide, 

While ev'ry breath, by respiration strong 

Forc'd downward, is consolidated soon 

Upon their jutting chests. He, form'd to bear 

The pelting bruiit of the tempestuous night, 

With half-shut eyes, and pucker'd cheeks and teetli 

Presented bare against the storm, plods on. 

One hand secures his hat, save when with both 

He brandishes his pliant length of whip, 

Resounding oft, and never heard in vain. 

O happy; and in my account denied 

That sensibility of pain with which 

liefinementis endu'd, thrice happy thou ! 

Thy frame, robust and hardy, feels indeed 

The piercing cold, but feels it unimpair'd. 

The learned finger never need explore 

Thy vig'rous pulse; and the unhealthful east. 

That breathes the spleen, and searches ev'ry bone 

Of the infirm, is wholesome air to thee. 

Thy days roll on exempt from household care ; 

Thy wagon is thy wife ; and the poor beasts, 

That drag the dull companion to and fro, 

Thine helpless charge, dependent on thy care. 

Ah, treat them kindly! rude as thou appear'at, 

Yet show that thou hast mercy ! which the great. 

With needless hurry whiri'd from place to place,. 

Humaae as they would seem, aot always show. 

Poor, yet industrious, modest, quiet, neat, 
Pucli claim compassion in a night like this. 
And have a friend in ev'ry feeling heart. 
AVarm'd, while it lasts, by labour all day long 
Tbey brave the season, and yet find at eve, 
\\[ clad, and fed but sparely, time to cool. 
Tiie frugal housewife trembles when she lights 
Her scanty stock of brushwood, blazing clear. 
Bit' ('-, ii^' soon, like all terresl rial joys. 



THE WINTER EVENING. 9.3 

The few small embers left she nurses well ; 

And, while her infant, race, with outspread hands, 

And crowded knees, sit cow'ring o'er the sparks, 

Retires, content to quake, so they be warra'd. 

The man feels least, as more inur'd than she 

To winter, and the current in his veins 

More briskly mov'd by his severer toil ; 

Yet he too finds his own distress in their's. 

The taper soon extiuguish'd, which I saw 

Ilangled along at the cold finger's end 

Just when the day declin'd ; and the brown loal" 

Lodg'd on the skelf, half eaten without sauce 

Of sav'ry cheese, or butter, costlier still; 

Sleep seems their only refuge : for, alas ! 

Where penury is felt the thought is chain'd, 

And sweet colloquial pleasures are but few ! 

With all this thrift they thrive not. All the car.e 

Ingenious Parsimony takes, but just 

Saves the small inventory, bed, and stool, 

Skillet, and old carv'd chest, from public sale. 

They live, and live without extorted alms 

I'irom grudging hands : but other boast have nOflC,, 

To sooth their honest pride, that scorns to beg, 

Kor comfort else, but in their mutual love. 

I praise you much, ye meek and patient pair, 

For ye are worthy; choosing rather far 

A dry but independent crust, hard earn'd. 

And eaten with a sigh, than to endure 

The rugged frowns and insolent rebuffs 

Of knaves in office, partial in the work 

Of distribution ; lih'ral of their aid 

To clam'rous Importunity in rags. 

But oftim« deaf to suppliants, who would blush 

To wear a tatter'd garb, however coarse. 

Whom famine cannot reconcile to filth : 

These ask with painful shyness, and, refus'd 

Because deserving, silently retire! 

Bathe ye of good courage ! Time itself 

:Shall much befriend you. Time shall give increase; 

And all your numerous progeny, well train'd, 

Uiit helpless, in few years shall find their hands, 



Si THE TASK. 

And labour loo. Meanwhile ye shall not want 
IVliat, conscious of your virtues, we can Eiiare» 
Kor what a wealthier than ourselves may send. 
I mean the man, who, when the distant poor 
ISeed help, denies them nothing but his name. 

But poverty with most, who whimper forth 
Their long complaints, is self-inflicted wo; 
The efiect of laziness or sottish waste. 
Kowgoes the nightly thief prowling abroad 
For plunder; much solicitous how Lef>t 
He may compensate for a day of sloth 
IJy works of darkness and nocturnal wrong. 
Wo to the gard'ner's pale, the farmer's hedge, 
Plash'd neatly, and secur'd with driven stakes 
Deep in the loamy bank. Uptorn by strength, 
Resistless in so bad a cause, but lame 
To better deeds, he bundles up the spoil, 
An ass's burden, and, when laden most 
And hcaviest,lightof foot, steals fastaway. 
Kcr does the boarded hovel better guard 
The vvell-stack'd pile of riven logs and roots 
From his pernicious force. Kor will he leave 
Unwrench'd the door, however well secur'd, 
Where Chanticleer amidst his hararo sleeps 
In unsuspecting pomp. Twitcli'd from the perch, 
*He gives the princely bird, with all his wives, 
To his voracious bag, struggling in vain. 
And loudly wond'ring at the sudd(;n change. 
JVor this to feed his own. 'Twere some excuse, 
Did pity of their sulT'rings warp a.iide 
His principle, and tempt him into sin 
For their support, so destitute. But they, 
iVeglected, pine at home; themselves, as more 
Expos'd than others, with less scrupie made 
Kis victims, robb'd of their defenceless all. 
Cruel is all he does. 'Tis quenchless thirst 
Of ruinous ebriety. that prompts 
His ev'ry action, and imbrutes the man. 
O for a law to noose the villain's neck 
^r.'?o stari'es his own; who persecutes the blood 



THE WINTER EVENING. 95 

He gave them in Lis children's veins, and hales 
And wrongs the woman he lias sworn to love ! 

Pass where we may, through city or through towj>, 
A'illage, or hamlet, of this merry land, 
Though lean and beggar'd, ev'ry twentieth pace 
Conducts th' unguarded nose to such a whiff 
Of stale debauch, forth-issuing from the sties 
That Law has licens'd as makes Temp'rance reel. 
There sit, involv'd and lost in curling clouds 
Of Indian fume, and guzzling deep, the boor. 
The lackey, ami the groom : the craftsmau there 
Takes a Lethean leave of all his toil; 
Smith, cobbler, joiner, he that plies the sliears, 
^.nd be that kneads the dough ; all loud alike, 
All learned, and all drunk ! the fiddlescrcams 
riaintive and piteous, as it wept and wail'd 
Its wasted tones and harmony unheard: 
Fieri.e the dispute waate'er the theme ; while she, 
Fell Discord, arbitress of such debate, 
Perch'don the signpost, holds with even hand 
Her undecisive scales. In this she lays 
A weight of ignorance ; in that, of pride ; 
Jind smiles delighted with the eternal poise. 
Dire is the frequent curse, and its twin sound. 
The cheek-distending oath, not to be praisM 
As ornamental, musical, polite. 
Like those which modern senators employ, 
WhOie oath is rhet'ric, and who swear forfame! 
Behold the schools, in which plebeian minds, 
Once .ximple, are initiated in arts 
Which some may practise with politer grace, 
But none with readier skill !— 'Tis here they learu 
The road that leads from competence and peace 
To indigence and rapine; till at last 
Society, grown weary of the load, 
Shakes her encumber'd lap, and casts them out. 
But censure profits little ; vain th' attempt 
To advertise in verse a public pest. 
That, like the tilth with which the peasant feeds 
Hts huugry acres, stinks, and is of use, 



- u THE TASK. 

Til' excise is faUen'd with the rich result 

Of all this riot ; and ten thousand casks, 

Forever drihijliii? out their base content?, 

Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state, 

r>leed gohl for ministers to sport away. 

Drink, and be mad then; 'tis your country bids ! 

irlorionsly drunk, obey th' important call ! 

Her cause demands th' assistance of your throats ;- 

Ye all can swallow, and she asks no more. 

Would I had fall'ii upon those happier days 
That poets celebrate; those golden times, 
Andtliosc Arcadian scenes that Maro sings. 
And Sidney, warbler of poetic prose. 
Nymphs were Dianas then, and swains had hearts 
That felt their virtue? : Innocence, it seems. 
From courts dismiss'd, found shelter in the groves; 
The footsteps of simplicity, impress'd 
L'pon the yielding herbage, (so they sing,) 
Then were not all efiac'd; then speech profane, 
And manners profligate, were rarely found, 
Observ'd as prodigies, and soon reclaim'd. 
Tain wish I those days were never: airy dreams 
Sat for the picture : and the poet's hand, 
Imparting substance to an empty shade, 
Impos'd a gay delirium for a truth. 
Grant it : I still must envy them an age 
That favour'd such a dream; in days like these 
Impossible when Virtue is so scarce. 
That to suppose a scene wlsere she presides 
Is transmontane, and stumbles all belief. 
]Vo: we are polish'dnow. The rural lass, 
Whom once her virgin modesty and grace. 
Her artless manners, and her neat attire, 
So dignified, that she was hardly less 
Than the fair shepherdess of old romance, 
Is seen no more The character is lost ! 
Her head, adorn'd with lappets pinn'd aloft. 
And ribands streaming gay, superbly rais'd, 
And magnified beyond all human size. 



THE WINTER EVENING. 9" 

Tndebted to some smart \»ig-weaver'3 hand 

For more than half the tresses it sustains : 

Her elbows rBffled, and her tott'ring form 

111 prnpp'd upon French heels; she mishtbe deem'd 

(But that the basket dangling on he.r arra 

Interprets her more truly) of a rank 

Tooproud for dairy work, or sale of eggs. — 

Expect her soon with footboy at her heeb. 

No longer blushing for her awkward load, 

Her train and her umbrella all her care! 

The town has ting'd the country; and the staia 
Appears a spot upon a vestal's robe, 
The worse tor what it soils. The fashion runs 
Down into scenes still rural ; hut, alas, 
Scenes rarely grac'd with rural manners now I 
Time- was when in the pastoral retreat 
Th' unguarded door was safe; men did not watch 
T' invade another's right, or guard their own. 
Then sleep was undisturb'd by fear, unscar'd 
By drunken bowlings; and the chilling tale 
Of midnight murder was a wonder heard 
With doubtful credit, told to frighten babes. 
But farewell now to unsuspicious nights, 
And slumbers unalarm'd ! Now, ere you sleep, 
See that j"our polish'darms be prim'd withcaro, 
And drop the night- bol t ;— ruffians are abroad ; 
And the first larum of the cock's shrill throat 
May prove a trumpet, summoning your ear 
To horrid sounds of hostile feet within. 
E'en daylight has its dangers; and the walk 
Through pathless wastes and woods, unconscious once 
Of other tenants than melodious birds, 
Or harmless flocks, is hazardous and hold. 
Lamented change ! to which full many a cause 
Invet'rate, hopeless of a cure, conspires 
The cours.o of human things from good to ill, 
From ill to worse, is fatal, never fails. 
Increase of pow'r begets increase of weall'a; 
WeaUh luxury, und luxury excess; 



93 THE TASK. 

Excess, the scrofulous atul itchy plague, 

That seizes fu'St the opulent, descenite 

To the next rank contagious, ami in time 

Taints downward all the graduated scale 

Of order, from the chariot to the plough. 

The rich, and they that have an arm to check 

The licejise of the lowest in degree, 

Desert their office ; and themselves, intent 

On pleasure, haunt the capital, and thus 

To all the violence of lawless hands 

Rfsign the scenes their presence might protecti 

Authority herself not seldom sleeps. 

Though resident, and witness of the wrong. 

The plump convivial parson often hears 

The magisterial sword in vain, and lays 

His rev'rence and his worship both to rest 

On the same cushion of habitual sloth 

Perhaps timidity restrains his arm; 

When he should strike he trembles, and, sets free, 

Himself eii?lav'd by terror of the hand — 

Th' audacious convict whom he dares not bind. 

I'erhaps, though by profession ghostly pure, 

He, too. may have his vice, and sometimes prove 

Less dainty than becomes his grave outside 

In lucrative concerns. Examine well 

His milk white hand; the palm is hardly clean — 

But here and there an ugly smutch appears. 

Foil ! 'iwas a bribe that left it : he has touch'd 

Corruption. Whoso seeks an audit here 

Propitious, pays his tribute, game or fish. 

Wildfowl or ven'son: and his errand speeds, 

Hut faster far, and more than all the rest, 
A noble cause, which none, who bears a spark 
Of public virtue, ever wish'd remov'd, 
Works the doplor'd and mischievous effecti 
'Tis universal soldiership has stabb'd 
The heart of merit in the meaner class. 
Arms, through the vanity and brainless raga 
Of t;!0.se thnt bear theiHi ia whatever causa, 



THE WINTER EVENING. 

Seem most at variance with all moral good, 
lAndincornpatihle with serious thought. 
The clown, the child of nature, without guile, 
Blest with an infant's ignorance of all 
But his ovvn simple pleasures; now ami then 
A wrestling niatch, a foot-race, or a fair; 
is balloted, and trembles at the news: 
Sheepish he doH's his hat, and mumbling swears 
A bible oath to be whate'erthey please, 
To do he knows not what. The task perform'd, 
That instant he becomes the sergeant's care, 
His pupil, and his torment, and his jest. 
His awkward gait, his introverted toes, 
Bent knees, round shoulders, and dejected looks, 
Procure him many a curse. By slow degrees, 
Unapt to learn, and form'd of stubborn stuff, 
He yet by slow degrees puts off himself, 
Crciws conscious of a change, and likes it well : 
He stands erect; his slouch becomes a walk ; 
He steps right onward, martial in his air, 
His form, and movement; is as smart above 
As meal and larded locks can make him ; wearg 
His hat, or his plum'd helmet, with a grace ; 
And, his three years of heroship expir'd, 
Returns indignant to the slighted plough. 
He hates the Geld, in which no fife or drum 
Attends him; drives his cattle to a march; 
And sighs for the smart comrades he has left. 
' Twere well if his exterior change were all — 
But Avitli his clumsy port the wretch has lost 
His ignorance and harmless manners too. 
To swear, to game, to drink; to show at home 
By lewdness, idleness, and sabliath breach, 
The great proficiency he made abroad ; 
T' astonish and to grieve his gazing friends; 
To break some maiden's and his mother's hearf j 
To be a pest where he was useful once; 
Are hio sole aim, and all his glory, now. 

Man in society is like a Qow'r 
'.[•yna m it^ uiilive bed; 'tis there alone 



100 THE TASK. 

His faculties, expanded in full bloom, 

Shine out; there only reach their proppr use. 

But man, associated and leagu'd with man 

By regal warrant or self-joinM by bond 

For interest sake, orswarn:iing into clans 

Beneath one head for purposes of war, 

Like How'rs selected from the rest, and bound 

.And bundled close to fill some crowded vase, 

Fades rapidly, and. by compression marr'd, 

Contracts defilement not to beendur'd. 

Hence chartcr'd boroughs are such public plagues 

And burghers, men immaculate perhaps 

In all their private function?, once combin'd, 

Become a loathsome body, only fit 

For dissolution, hurtful to the main. 

Kence merchants, unimpeachable of sin 

Against the charities of domestic life, 

Incorporated, seem at once to lose 

Their nature ; and, disclaiming all regard 

For mercy and the common rights of man, 

Build factories with blood, conducting trade 

At the sword's point, and dying the white robft 

Of innocent commercial Justice red. 

Hence, too, the field of glory, as the world 

Mi.'-deem'' it, dazzled by its bright array, 

With all its majesty of thund'ring pomp, 

Enchanting music, and immortal wreaths. 

Is but a school, where thoughtlessness is taugkt 

On principle, where foppe-f-y atones 

For folly, gallantry for ev'ry vice. 

But slighted as it is, and by the great 
Abandon'd, and, which stili I more regret, 
Infected with the manners and the modes 
It knew not once, the country wins me still. 
I never fram'd a wish, or form'd a plan, 
Thatflattcr'd me with hopes of eartiily bliss. 
But there I laid tlie scene. There early stiay'd 
My fancy, ere yet liberty of choice 
Had found lae. or the hope ofbeinsfree. 



THE WINTER EVENING. iO! 

My very dreams were rural; rural too 

The first-born elTorts of my youthful muse, 

Sportive and jingling her poetic bells, 

Ere yet her ear was mistress of their pow'rg. 

STo bard could please me but whose lyre was tuu'fJ 

To Nature's praises. Heroes and their feats 

Fatigu'd me, never weary of the pipe 

Of Tityrus, assembling, as he sang. 

The rustic throng beneath his fav'rite beech. 

Then Milton had indeed a poet's charms : 

New to my taste, his Paradise surpass'd 

The struggling elforts of my boyish tongue 

To speak its excellence. I danc'd for joy. 

I marveird much that, at so ripe an age 

As twice seven years, his beauties had then first 

Engag'd ray wonder; and admiring still, 

And still admiring, with regret suppos'd 

The joy half lost, because not sooner found. 

There, too, enamour'd of the life I lov'd, 

Pathetic in its praise, in its pursuit 

Determin'd, and possessing it at last, 

V/ith transports such as favoured lovers feel, 

I studied, priz'd, and wisli'd that I had known, 

Ingenious Cowley' and, though now reclaim'd 

By modern lights from an erroneous taste, 

I cannot but lament thy splendid wit 

Entangled in the cobwebs of the schools). 

I still revere thee, courtly though retir'd; 

Though stretch'dalease in Chertsey's silent boTy'r;;, 

Not unemploy'd ; and finding rich amends 

For a lost world in solitude and verse. 

'Tis horn with all; the love of Nature's works 

Is an ingredient in the compound man, 

Infus'dat the creation of the kind. 

And, though th' Almighty "vlakiM- has throughout 

Di.'^ciimiiiatedeach from each, by strokes 

And touches o!" his hand, with so much art 

Divpiiilied, thai two v>ere never Tound 

Twins at all poinis— /c't ihi:; obtains in all, 

That all (Ji-scera a beauty in his works, 



102 THE TASK. 

Am] all can la-^te them : minds that have been form'd 

And tutor'd, vtith a relish more exact. 

But none without some relish, none unmov'd. 

It is a flame that dies not even there, 

Where nothing feeds it : neither business, crowds, 

Nor habits of luxurious city life. 

Whatever else they smother of true •worth 

In human bosoms, quench it or abate. 

The villas, with which London stands begirt, 

Like aswa-th Indian with his belt ofbeads 

Prove it. A breath of unadult'rate air, 

The glimpse of a green pasture, how they cheer 

The citizen, and brace his languid frame I 

E'en in the stifling bosom of the town 

A garden, in which nothing thrives, has charms 

That sooth the rich possessor; much consol'd, 

That here and there some sprigs of mournful mint, 

Of nightshade, or valerian, grace the well 

He cultivates. These serve him with a hint 

That Nature lives; that sight-refreshing green 

Is still the livVy she delights to wear, 

Though sickly samples of th' exuberant -whole. 

What are the casements lin'd with creeping herbS, 

The prouder sashes fronted with a range 

Of orange, myrtle, or the fragrant weed. 

The Frenchman's darling?* are they not all proofs, 

That man, immur'd in cities, still retains 

His inborn inextinguishable thirst 

Of rural scenes, compensating his loss 

By supplemental shifts, the best he may? 

The most unfurnish'd with the means of life. 

And they that never pass their brick-wall bounds 

To range the Gelds, and treat their lungs -with air, 

Yet feel the burning instinct : over bead 

Suspend their crazy boxes planted thick. 

And water'd duly. There the pitcher stands 

A fragment, and the spoutless teapot there ; 

fad witnesses how close- pent man regrets 

* MIgnonnetfe, 



THE WINTER EVENING. 103 

The country, with what ardour he contrives 
A peep at Nature, when he can no more. 

Hail, therefore, patroness of health and ease,, 
And contemplation, heart-consoling joys, 
And harmless pleasures in the throng'd abode 
Of multitudes unknown ! hail, rural life ! 
Address himself who will to the pursuit 
Of honours, or emoluments, or fame; 
I shall not add myself to such a chase. 
Thwart his attempts, or envy his success. 
Some must be great. Great offices v^ill have 
Great talents. And God gives to ev'ry mao 
The virtue, temper, understanding, taste, 
That lifts him into life, and lets him fall 
Just in the niche he was ordain'd to fill. 
To the deliv'rer of an injur'd land 
He gives a tongue t' enlarge upon, a heart 
To feel, and courage to redress, her wrongs; 
To monarchs dignity; to judges sense; 
To artists ingenuity and skill ; 
To me, an unambitious mind, content 
In the low vale of life, that early felt 
A wish for ease and leisure, and ere long 
Found here that leisure and that ease I wjsh'd. 



THE TASK. 



BOOK V. 



ARGUMENT OF THE FIFTH BOOK. 

A frosty morning. ...The foddering of cattle.. ..The woodman 
and his dog. ...The poultry. ...Whimsical effects of frost at a 
waterfall. ...The empress of Russia's palace of ice. ...Amuse- 
ments of monarchs..,.War, one of them.... Wars, whence.. 
And whence monarchy. ...The evils of it. ...English and French 
loyalty contrasted. ...The Bastile, and a piisoner there. 
Liberty the chief recommend.ition of this country. ...Modern 
patriotism questionable, and why. ...The perishable nature of 
the i^est human institutions.... Spiritual liberty not perishable', 
....The slavish state of man by nature. ...Deliver him. Deist, if 
you can. ...Grace must do it. ...The respective merits of pa- 
triots ami martyrs stated. ...Their different treatment. ...Hap- 
py freedom of the man whom grace makes free... His relish 
of the works of God.. ..Address to the Creator. 



THE TASK. 



BOOK V. 



THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 



'Tis morning; and the sun, with ruddy orb 
Asceniling, fires th' horizon; while the clouds 
That crowd away befere the driving wind, 
More ardent as the disk emerges more, 
Resemble most some city in a blaze, 
Seen through the leafless wood. His slanting ray 
Slides ineffectual down the snowy vale, 
And tinging all with his own rosy hue. 
From ev'ry herb and ev'ry spiry blade 
Stretches a length of shadow o'er the field. 
Mine spindling into longitude immense, 
In spite of gravity, and sage remark 
That I myself am but a fleeting shade, 
Provokes me to a smlJe. With eye askance, 
1 view the muscular proportion'd limb 
Transform'd to a lean shank. The shapeless pair, 
As they desigii'd to mock me, at my side 
Take step for step; and, as I near approach 
The cottage, walk along the plaster'd v/all, 
Ppepost'rous sight! the legs without the man. 



108 THE TASK. 

The verdure of the plain lies buried deep 
Beneath the dazzling deluge; and the bents, 
And coarser grass, upspearing o'er the rest. 
Of late unsightly and unseen, now shine 
Gonspicuous, and in bright apparel clad, 
And, fledg'd with icy feathers, nod superb. 
The cattle mourn in corners, where the fence 
Screens them, and seem half petriSed to sleep 
In unrecumbent sadness. There they wait 
Their wonted fodder; not like hung'ring man, 
Fretful if unsnpplied ; but silent, meek, 
And patient of the slow-pac'd swain's delay. 
He from the stack carves out th' accustom'd load, 
Deep-plunging, and again deep-plunging oft, 
His broad keen knife into the solid mass ; 
Smooth as a wall the upright remnant stands. 
With such undeviating and even force 
He severs it away; no needless care, 
Lest storms should overset the leaning pile 
Deciduous, or its own unbalanc'd weight. 
Forth goes the woodman, leaving unconfern'd 
The cheerful haunts of man; to wield the axe, 
And drive the wedge, in yonder forest drear, 
From morn to eve his solitary task. 
Shaggy, and lean, and shrewd, with pointed ears. 
And tail cropp'd short, half lurcher and half cur— 
His dog attends him. Close behind his heel 
Uow creeps he slow ; and now, with many a frisk 
Wide-scamp'ring, snatches up the drifted snow 
With iv'ry teeth, or ploughs it with his snout ; 
Then shakes his powder'd coat, and barks for joy. 
Heedless of all his pranks, the sturdy churl 
Moves right toward the mark ; nor stops for aught, 
But now and then with pressure of his thumb 
T' adjust tiie fragrant charge of a short tube, 
That fumes beneath his nose : the trailing cloud 
Streams far behind him, scenting all the air. 
Now from the roost, or from the neighb'ring pale, 
Where diligent to catch the ftrst faint gleam 
Of smiling day, they gossip'd side by side, 



THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 10 9 

Come trooping at the housewife's well known call 

The feather'd tribes domestic. Half on wing, 

And half on foot, they brush the fleecy flood, 

Conscious and fearful of too deep a plunge. 

The sparrows peep, and quit the shelt'ring eaves, 

To seize the fair occasion : well they eye 

The scattered grain, and thievishly resolvM 

T' escape th' impending famine, often scar'd 

As oft return — a pert voracious kind. 

Clean riddance quickly made, one only care 

Remains to each, the search of sunny nook, 

Or .shed impervious to the blast. Resign'd 

To sad necessity, the cock forgoes 

His wonted strut; and, wading at their head 

With well-consider'd steps, seems to resent 

His alter'd gait and stateliness retrench'd. 

How find the myriads, that in summer cheer 

The hills and valleys with their ceaseless songs. 

Due sustenance, or Avhere subsist they now ? 

Earth vields them naught ; th' imprison'u worm is safe 

Beneath the frozen clod : all seeds of herbs 

Ijje cover'd close; and berry-bearing thorns, 

That feed the thrush, (whatever some suppose,) 

Afibrd the smaller minstrels no supply. 

The long-protracted rigour of the year 

Thins all their num'rous flocks. In chinks and holes 

Ten thousand seek an unmolested end. 

As instinct prompts ; sclf-l.uried ere they die. 

The very rooks and daws forsake the fields. 

Where neither grub, nor root, nor earth nut, now 

Repays their labour more; and perch'd aloft 

By the way-side, or stalking in the path. 

Lean pensioners upon the traveller's track, 

Pick up their nauseous dole, though sweet to theoi, 

Of voided pulse or half-digested grain. 

The streams are lost amid the splendid blank, 

O'erwjielming all distinction. On the flood, 

Indurated and fix'd, thesnowj weight 

Lies undissolv'd; while silently beneath, 

And I'.-iperGeiv'd, the current steals away. 



110 THE TASK. 

JNot 80 where, scornful of a check, it leaps 

The mill dam, dashes on the restless -wheel. 

And wantons in the pebbly gulf below : 

Wo frost can bind it tnere ■. its utmost force 

Can but arrest the light and smoky mist, 

That in its fall the liquid siieet throws wide. 

And see where it has hungth' embroider'd banks 

With forms so various, that no pow'rs of art, 

The pencil, or the pen, may trace the scene ! 

Here glitt'ring turrets rise upbearing high, 

(Fantastic misarrangement !) on the roof 

Large growth of what may seem the sparkling trees 

And shrubs of fairy land. The crystal drops 

That trickle down the branches, fast congeal'd, 

Shoot into pillars of pellucid length, 

And prop the pile they but adorn'd before. 

Here grotto within grotto safe defies 

The sunbeam ; there, emboss'd and fretted wild, 

The growing wonner takes a thousand shapes 

Capricious, in which fancy seeks in vaia 

The likeness of some objects seen before. 

Thus Nature works as if to mock at Art, 

And in defiance of her rival pow'rs; 

By these fortuitous and random strokes 

Performing such inimitable feats, 

As she with all her rules can never reach. 

Less worthy of applause, though more adnqir'd, 

Because a novelty, the work of man, 

Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ, 

Thy most magnificent and mighty freak, 

The wonder of the North. No forest fell 

Whea thou wouldst build; no quarry sent its stores 

T' enrich thy walls : but thou didst hew the floods. 

And make thy marble of the glassy wave. 

In such a palace Aristaeus found 

Cyrene. when he bore the plaintive tale 

Of his lost bees to her maternal ear : 

In such a palace poetry might place 

The armory of Winter ; where his troops, 

The gloomy clouds, find weapons, arrowy sleet, 



4 



THE WINTER MORNING WALK. lU 

Skin piercing volley, blossom-bruising hail, 

And snow, that often blinds the traveler's course, 

And wraps him in an unexpected tomb. 

Silently as a dream the fabric rose ; 

No sound of hammer or of saw was there : 

Ice upon ice, the well-adjusted parts 

Were soon conjoin'd, nor other cement ask'd 

Than water interfus'd to make them one. 

Lamps gracefully disposed, and of all hues, 

Illumin'd ev'ry side: a wat'ry light 

Gleam'd through the clear transparency, that seem'd 

Another moon new ris'n, or meteor fall'n 

From Heav'n to Earth, of lambent flame serene. 

So stood the brittle prodigy ; though smooth 

And slipp'ry the materials, yet frost-bound 

Firm as a rock. Nor wanted aught within 

That loyal residence might well befit 

For grandeur or for use. Long wavy wreaths 

Of flow'rs that feard no enemy but v armth, 

Blush'd on the pannel?. Mirror needed none 

Where all was vitreous ; but in order due 

Convivial table and commodious seat 

(What seem'd at least commodious seal) were there; 

Sofa and couch, and high- built throne august. 

That same lubricity was found in all. 

And all was moist to the warm touch ; a scene 

Of evanescent glory, once a stream. 

And soon to slide into a stream again. 

Alas! 'twas but a mortifying stroke 

Of undesign'd severity, that glanc'd, 

(Made by a monarch,) on her own estate. 

On human grandeur and the courts of kings. 

'Twas transient in its nature, as in show 

'Twas durable; as worthless, as it seem'd 

Intrinsically precious; to the foot 

Treach'rous aad false; it smil'd, and it was cold. 

Great princes have great play-things. Some have 
play'd 
At hewing moimtains ioto mea, and some 



112 THS TASK. 

At building human wonders mountain-liigis. 
Some have amus'd the dull, sad years of life, 
(Life spent in indolence, and therefore sad,) 
With schemes of monumental fame; and sought 
By pyramids and mausolean pomp. 
Short liv'd themselves, t' immortalize their bones> 
Some seek diversion in the tented field, 
And make the sorrows of mankind their sport. 
But war's a game, which, were their subjects wise, 
Kings would not play at. Nations would do well, 
T' extort their truncheons from the puny bands 
Of heroes, whose infirm and baby minds 
Are gratified with mischief; and who spoil, 
Because men sufier it, their toy, the World, 

When Babel was confounded, and the great 
Confed'racy of projectors wild and vaia 
Was split into diversity of tongues. 
Then, as a shepherd separates his flock. 
These to the upland, to the valley those, 
God drave asunder, and assign'd their lot 
To all the nations. Ample was the boon 
He gave them, in its distribution fair 
And equal ; and he bade them dwell in peace. 
Peace was awhile their care; they plough'd andsow'd, 
An! reap'd their plenty without grudge or strife. 
But violence can never longer sleep 
Thau human passions please. In ev'ry heart 
Are sown the sparks thai kindle fiery war; 
Occasion needs but fan them, anu they blaze. 
Cain had already shed a brother's blood : 
The deluge wash'd it out; butleft unquench'd 
The seeds of murder m the breast of man. 
Soon by a righieous judgment in the line 
Of his descenoing progeny was found 
The first arliiicer oi death ; the shrewd 
Contriver, who first sweated at the iorge, 
And iorc'd the ulunt aad yet unbloodied steel 
To a keen edge, anc riiaije it bright for war. 
Him, Tubal nam'd, the Vulcan of old times, 



THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 113 

The sword and falchion their inventor claim; 
And the first smith was the first raiird'rer's son. 
His art surviv'd the waters ; and ere long, 
When man was multiplied and spread abroad 
In tribes and clans, and had begun to call 
These meadows and tliat range of hills his own, 
The tasted sweets of property begat 
Desire of more, and industry in some, 
T' improve and cultivate their just demesne, 
Made others covet what they saw so fair. 
Thus war began on Earth : these fought for spoil, 
And those in self defence. Savage at first 
The onset, and irregular. At length 
One eminent above the rest for strength, 
For stratagem, or courage, or for all, 
Was chosen leader ; him they serv'd in war, 
And him in peace, for sake of warlike deeds 
Rev'renc'd no less. Who could with him compare'? 
Or who so worthy to control themselves, 
As he, whose prowess hadsubdu'd their foes? 
Thus war, affording field for the display 
Of virtue, made one chief, whom time.^ of peace. 
Which have their exigencies too, and call 
For skill in government, at length made king. 
King was a name too proud for man to wear 
With modesty and meekness; and the crown, 
So dazzling in their eyes, who set it on. 
Was sure t' intoxicate the brows it bound. 
It is the abject property of most. 
That, being parcel of the common mass. 
And destitute of means to raise themselves. 
They sink, and settle lower than they need. 
They know not what it is to feel within, 
A comprehensive faculty, that grasps 
Great purposes with ease, that turns and wields, 
Almost without an eifort, plans too vast 
For their conception, which they cannot move. 
Conscious of impotence, they soon grow drunk 
With gazing, when they see an able man 
Step forth to notice-, and, besotted thus, 
r 2 



114 THE TASK. 

Build him a pedestal, and say, "Stand thcr&, 

** And be our admirtition and our praise." 

They roll themselves before him in the dust. 

Then most deserving in their own account 

When most extravagant in his applause. 

As if, exalting him, they rais'd themselves. 

Thus by degrees, self-cheated of their sound 

And sober judgment, that he is but man, 

They demi-deify and fume him so, 

That in due season he forgets it too. 

Inflated and astrut with self conceit, 

He gulps the windy diet; and ere long. 

Adopting their mistake, profoundly thinks 

The World was made in vain, if not for him. 

Thenceforth thsy are his cattle; drudges, bora 

To bear his burdens, drawing in his gears, 

And sweating in his service, his caprice 

Becomes the soul that animates them all. 

He deems a thousand, or ten thousand lives. 

Spent in the purchase of renown for him. 

An easy reck'ning ; and they think the same. 

Thus kings were first invented, and thuskiDgs 

Were burnish'd into heroes, and became 

The arbiters of this terraqueous swamp; 

Storks among frogs, that have but eroak'd and died* 

Strange, that such folly, as lifts bloated maa 

To eminence, fit only for a god. 

Should ever drivel out of human lips, 

.E'en in the cradled weakness of the World! 

Still stranger much, that when at length mankiad 

Had reach'd the sinewy firmness of their youth, 

And could discriminate and argue well 

On subjects moremyr.terious, they were yet 

Babes in the cause of freedom, and should fear 

And quake before the gods themselves had m.ade : 

But above measure strange, that neither proof 

Of sad experience, nor examples set 

By some whose patriot virtue has prevail'd, 

Can even now, when they are grown mature 

Jo wisdom, and with philosophic deeds 



THE WlNTElt MORNING WALK. 115 

FamHiar, serve t' emancipate the rest! 

Such dupes are men to custom, and so prone 

To rev'rence what is ancient, and can pleail 

A course of long observance for its use, 

That even servitude, the worst of ills, 

Because deliver'd down from ?jre to son, 

Is kept and guarded as a sacred thing. 

But is it fit. or can it bear the shock 

Of rational discussion, that a man, 

Compounded and maite up like other men 

Of elements tumultuous, in whom lust 

And folly in as ample measure meet 

As in the bosoms of the slaves he rules, 

Should be a despot absolute, and boast 

Himself the only freeman of his land ? 

.Should, when he pleases, and on whom he will, 

Wage war, with any or with no pretence 

Of provocation giv'n, or wrong sustain'd, 

And force the beggarly last doit by means 

That his own humour dictates, from the clutch 

Of Poverty, that thus he may procure 

His thousands, weary of penurious life, 

A splendid opportunity to die ? 

Say ye, who (with less prudence than, of old, 

Jothara ascrib'dto his assembled trees 

In politic convention) put your trust 

I' th' shadow of a bramble, and, reclin'd 

In fancied peace beneath his dangVous branch, 

Ilejoice in him, and celebrate his sway, 

Where find ye passive fortitude ? Whence springs 

Your self-denying zeal, that holds it good 

To stroke the prickly grievance, and to hang 

His thorns with streamers of continual praise? 

We too are friends to loyalty : We love 

The king who loves the law, respects his bounds, 

And reigns content wiihin them : him we serve 

Freely and with deiight, who leaves us free : 

But recollecting still that he is man, 

We trust him not too far. King though he be, 

And king ki England too, he may be weak 



(ir> 



THE TASK. 



And vain enough to be amhitimrs still; 

I\Iav exercise amiss his proper pow'rs, 

Or covet more than freemen choose to grant: 

Ueyond that mark is treason. He is oiir's, 

T' administer, to guard, t' adorn, the state, 

But not to warp or change it. We are his, 

To serve him noUly in the common cause. 

True to the death; hut not to he his slaves. 

Mark now the dilPrence, ye that boast your love 

Of kings, between your loyalty and our's. 

We love the man- the paltry pageant, you : 

We the chief patron of the commonwealth; 

You, the regardless author of its woes: 

We, for the sake of liberty, a king; 

You, chains and bondage for a tyrant's sake. 

Our love is principle, and has its root 

Id reason ; is judicious, manly, free ; 

Your's, a blind instinct, crouches to the ro(f, 

And licks the foot that treads it in the dust. 

Were kingship as true treasure as it seems, 

Sterling, and worthyof a wise man's wish, 

I would not he a king to he belov'd 

Causeless, and d;ujh'd with undiscerning praise, 

Where love is mere attachment to the throne, 

Not to the man who fills it as he ought. 

Whose freedom is by suflF'rance, and at will 
Of a superior, he is never free. 
Who lives, and is not weary of a life 
Kx[)os'd to manacles, deserves them well. 
The state that strives for liberty, though foil'd. 
And forc'd to abandon what she bravely sought. 
Deserves at least applause for her attempt, 
And pity for her loss. But that's a cause 
JVot often unsuccessful : pow'r usurp'd 
Is weakness when oppos'd; conscious of wrong, 
'Tis pusillanimous and prone to flight. 
But slaves, that once conceive the glowing thought 
Of freedom, intliat hope itself possess 
All that the contest calls for ; spirit, strength, 



THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 117 

The scorn of danger, and united hearts: 
The surest presage of the good they seek : * 

Then shame to manhood, and opprobrious more 
To France than all her losses and defeats. 
Old or of later date, by sea or land, 
Her houseof bondage, worse than that of old 
Which Godaveng'd on Pharaoh— the Bastile. 
Ye horrid tow'rs, th' abode of broken hearts ; 
Ye dungeons and ye cages of despair. 
That monarchs have supplied from age to age 
With music, such as suits their sov'reign ears— 
The sighs and groans of miserable men ! 
Tiiere's not an English heart that would not leap, 
To hear that ye were fall'n at last; to know 
That e'en our enemies, so oft employ'd 
In forging chains for us, themselves were free. 
For he who values Liberty, confines i, 

His zeal for her predominance within 
No narrow bounds ; her cause engages him 
Wherever pleaded. 'Tis the cause of man. 
There dwell the most forlorn of human kind, 
Immur'd though unaccus'd. condemn'd untried, 
Cruelly spar'd, and hopeless of escape. 
There, like the visionary emblem seen 
By himof Babylon, life stands a stump, 
And. filleted about with hoops of brass, 
Htill lives, though all his pleasant boughs are gene. 
To count the hour-bell and expect no change; 
And ever as the sullen sound is heard, 
Ktill to reflect, that, though a joyless note 
To him whose moments all have one dull pace, 
Ten thousand rovers in the World at large 
Account it music; that it summons some 
To theatre, or jocund feast, or ball : 

• The author hopes, that he shall not be censured for unneces- 
sary warmth upon so interesting a subject. He isawaie, that it 
is become almost fa.shional)le, to stigmatize such sentiments as no 
better tlian empty declaration ; but it is an ill symptom, and pe- 
culiar to modern ttme>. 



118 THE TASK. 

The wearied hireliog finds it a release 
From labour; and the lover, who has chid 
Its Jongdelay, feelsev'ry welcome stroke 
Upon his heart-strings, trenibling with delight- 
To fly for refuge from distracting thought 
To such amusements as ingenious wo 
Contrives, hard shifting, and without her tools— 
To read engraven on the mouldy walls, 
In stagg'ring types, his predecessor's tale, 
A sad memorial, and suhjoin his own — 
To turn purveyor to an overgorg'd 
And bloated spider, till the pamper'd pest 
Is made familiar, watches his approach, 
Comes at his call, and serves him for a friend — 
To wear out time in numb'ring toand fro 
The studs that thick emboss his iron d.«or ; 
Then downwardand then upward, then aslant, 
And then alternate; with a sickly hope 
By (iintof change to give his tasteless task 
Home relish ; till the sum, exactly found 
In all directions, he begins again — 
OcomfortJess existence! hemm'd around 
With woes, which who that sulTers would not kneel 
And beg for exile, or the pangs of death ''. 
That man should thus encroach on fellow man, 
Abridge himof his just and native rights, 
Eradieat*- him, tear him from his hold 
Upon th' endearments of domestic life 
And social, nip hisfruitfulness and use, 
And (loom him for perhaps a heedless word 
To barrenness, and solitude, and tears, 
Bloves indiiinalinn, makes the name of king, 
(Of king wliom such prerogative can please) 
As dreadful as the Manichean god, 
Ador'd ihrou<^h fear, strong only to destroy. 

'Tis liberty alone, that gives theflow'r 
Of fleeting life its lustre an<l perfume; 
And we are weeds without it. Ail constraint. 
Except what wisdom lays on evil men, 



THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 119 

Is evil : hurts the faculties, impedes 

Their progress in the roa'l of science ; blinds 

The eyesigiitof Discov'ry ; and begets, 

In those that suffer it, a sordid mind, 

Bestial, a meager intellect, unfit 

To be the tenant of man's noble form. 

Thee therefore still, blanoeworthy as thou art, 

With all thy loss of empire, and though squeez'd 

By public exigence, till annual food 

Fails for the craving hunger of the state, 

Thee I account still happy, and the chief 

Among the nations, seeing thou art free : 

My native nook of earth ! Thy clime is rude, 

Replete with vapours, and disposes much 

All hearts to sadness, and none more than mine-; 

Thine unadult'rate manners are less soft 

And plausible than social life requires, 

And thou hast need of discipline and art. 

To give thee wliat politer France receives 

Prom nature's bounty — that humane address 

And sweetness, without which no pleasure is 

In converse, either starv'd by cold reserve, 

Orflush'd with fierce dispute, a senseless brawl 

Yet, being free, I love thee : for the sake 

Of that one feature can be well content, 

Disgrac'd as thou hast been, poor as thou art* 

To seek no sublunary rest beside. 

But once enslav'd, farewell ! I could endure 

Chains nowhere patiently; and chains at home, 

Where I am free by birthright, not at all. 

Then what were left of roughness in the grain 

Of British natures, wanting its excuse 

That it belongs to freemen, would disgust 

And shock me. I should then with double pala 

Feel all t he rigour of thy fickle clime ; 

And, if I must bewail the blessing lost. 

For which our Hampdens and our Sidneys bled, 

I would at least bCAvail it under skies 

Milder, among a people less austere; 

In scenes, Avhich, bavins never known me free, 



120 THE TASK. 

r 

Would rot reproach me with the loss I felt. 
Do I forebode impossible events, 
And tremble at vain dreams ? Heav'n grant I may I 
Butth' age of virtuous politics is past. 
And we are deep in that of cold pretence. 
Tatriots are grown too shrewd to be sincere, 
And we too wise to trust them. He that takes 
Deep in his soft credulity the stamp 
Design'd by loud declaimers on the part 
Of liberty, (themselves the slaves of lust,) 
Incurs derision for his easy faith. 
And lack of knowledge, and with cause enough: 
For when was public virtue to be found, 
Where private was not? Can he love the whole, 
Who loves no part? He be a nation's friend, 
Who is in truth the friend of no man there? 
Can he be strenuous in his country's cause, 
Who slights the charities, for whose dear sake 
That country, if atall, must bebelov'd? 

'Tis therefore sober and good men are sail 
For England's glory, seeing it wax pale 
And sickly, while her champions wear their hearts 
So loose to private duty, that no brain 
Healthful and undisturb'd by factious fumes. 
Can dream them trusty to the gen'ral weal. 
Such were they not of old, whose temper'd blades 
Dispers'd the shackles of usurp'd control, 
And hew'd them link from link; then Albion's sons 
Were sons indeed; they feltafilial heart 
4ieat high within them at a mother's wrongs; 
And, shining each in his domestic sphere. 
Shone brighter still, oncecall'd to public view. 
'Tis therefore many, whose seqnester'd lot 
Forbids their interference, looking on, 
Anticipate per force some dire event ; 
And seeing the old castle of the state. 
That promis'd once more firmness, so assail'd. 
That all its tempest-beuten turrets shake, 
Stand motionless expectants of its fall. 



THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 121 

All has its date below ; the fatal hour 
Was register'd in Heav'n ere time began. 
We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works 
Die too: the deep foundations that we lay, 
Time ploughs them up, and not a trace remains- 
We build with what we deem eternal rock; 
A distant age aslcs where the fabric stood ; 
And in the dust, sifted and search'd in vain, 
The undiscoverable secret sleeps. 

But there is yet a liberty, unsung 
By poets, and by senators unprais'd. 
Which monarchs cannot grant, nor all the pow'ra 
Of Earth and Hell confed'rate take away : 
A liberty, which persecution, fraud, 
Oppression, prisons, have no pow'r to bind; 
Which whoso tastes can he enslav'd no more. 
'Tis liberty of heart deriv'd from Heav'n, 
Bought with HIS blood, who gave it to mankind, 
And seal'd with the same token. It is held 
By charter, and that charter sanction'dsure 
By th' unimpeacliable and awful oath 
And promise of a God. His other gifts 
All bear the royal stnmp that speaks them his, 
And are august; but this transcends them all. 
His other works, the visible display 
Of all creating energy and might, 
Are grand, no doubt, and worthy of the word, 
That, finding an interminable space 
Unoccupied, has fill'd the void so well 
And made so sparkling what was dark before. 
But these are not his glory. Man, 'tis true, 
Smit with the beauty of so fair a scene, 
Might well suppose th' artificer divine 
Meant it eternal, had he not himselt 
Pronounc'd it transient, glorious as it is, 
And, still designing a more glorious far, 
Doom'd it as insufficient for his praise. 
These tlierefore are occasional, and pass; 
Form'd for the coofutatioa of tlie fool, 



122 THE TASK. 

Whose lying heart disputes against a God; 
That office serv'd, they must be swept away. 
Not so the lahours of his love : they shine 
In other heav'ns than these that we behold. 
And fade not. There is Paradise that fears 
No forfeiture, and of its fruits he sends 
Large prelibation oft to saints below. 
Of these the first in order, and the pledge, 
And confident assurance of the rest, 
Is liberty; a flight into his arms, 
Ere yet mortality's fine threads give way, 
A clear escape from tyrannizing lust, 
And full immunity from penal wo. 

Chains are the portion of revolted man, 
Stripes, and a dungeon ; and his body serves 
The triple purpose. In that sickly, foul, 
Opprobrious residence, he finds them all. 
Propense his heart to idols, he is held 
In silly dotage on created things. 
Careless of their Creator. And that low 
And sordid gravitation of his pow'rs 
To a vile clod, so draws him, with such force 
Resistless from the centre he should seek. 
That he at last forgets it. All his hopes 
Tend downward : his ambition is to sink. 
To reach a depth profounder still, and still 
Profounder, in the fathomless abyss 
Of folly, plunging in pursuit of death. 
But ere he gain the comfortless repose 
He seeks, and acquiescence of his soul 
In heav'u-renouncing exile, he endures — 
What does he not, from lusts oppos'd in vain. 
And self-reproaching conscience? He foresees 
The fatal issue to his health, fame, peace, 
Fortune, and dignity, the loss of all 
That can ennoble man and make frail life, 
Short as it is. supportable. Still worse, 
■Far worse than all the plagues with which his sins 
Icfsct bis happiest moments, be forebodes 



THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 123 

Ages of hopeless mis'ry. Future death. 

And death still fiitiire. Not a hasty stroke, 

Like that which sends him to the dusty grave ; 

But unrepealable, enduring, death 

Scripture is still a trumpet to his fears : 

What none can prove a forgery, nrtay be true: 

What none but bad mea wish exploded, must. 

That scruple checks him Riot is not loud 

iNor drunk enough, to drown it. In the midst 

Of laughter his compunctions are sincere; 

And he abhors the jest by which he shines. 

Remorse begets reform. His master lust 

Falls first before hi? resolute rebuke, 

And seems dethron'd and vanquish'd. Peace ensues,', 

But spurious and short liv'd the puny child , 

Of self-congratuldling Pride, begot 

On ancied Innocence. Again he falla. 

And fights again ; but finds his best essay 

A presage ominous, portending still 

Its own dishonour by a worse relapse. 

Till Nature, unavailing Nature, foil'd 

So oft and wearied in the vain attempt, 

Scotls at her own performance. Reason now 

Takes part with ippetite. and pleads the cause 

Perversely, which of late she so condemn'd; 

With shallow shifts and old devices, worn 

And tatter'd in the service of debauch. 

Cov'ring his shame from his offended sight. 

" Hath God indeed giv'n appetites to man, 
♦♦ And stor'd the Earth no plenteously with meaos 
" To gratify the hunjier of his wish; 
«♦ And doth he reprobate, and will he damn 
•' The use of his own itounty ] making tirst 
*' So frail a kind, and then euaciing laws 
•' So strict, that less than perfect must despair ? 
•' FaUehood ' which whoso but suspects of trutl>, 
*' Dij^Dnours God, and makes a slave of man. 
*' Do they th^'.m ■selves, who wn leiaake for hire 
♦' The teacher's office, and dispense at large 
'' Their weekly dole of eoi'v-ns, strains, 
** AtteaU to their owu music 1 have they fauth 



124 THE TASK. 

" In what, with such solemnity of tone 

" And gesture, they propound to our belief? 

♦' Nay — Conduct hath the loudest tongue. The voice 

*' Is but an instrument, on which the priest 

" May play what tune he pleases. In the deed, 

♦' The unequivocal, authentic deed, 

" We find sound argument, we read the heart." 

Such reas'nings (if that name must needs belong 
T' excuses in which reason has no pari) 
Serve to compose a spirit well inclin'd 
To live on terras of amity with vice, 
And sin without disturbance. Often urg'd, 
(As often as libidinous discourse 
Exhausted, he resorts to solemn themes 
Of theological and grave import,) 
They gain at last his unreserv'd assent; 
Till, harden'd his heart's temper in the forge 
Of lust, and on the anvil of despair, 
He slights the strokes of conscience. Nothing movessi 
Or nothing much, his constancy in ill; 
Vain tamp'ring has but foster'd his disease; 
' Tis desp'ratc, and he sleeps the sleep of death. 
Haste now, philosopher, and set him free. 
Charm the deaf serpent wisely. Make him hear 
Of rectitude and titness, moral truth 
How lovely, and the moral sense how sure, 
Consulted and obey'd, to guide his steps 
Directly to the first anu only fair. 
Spare not in such a cause. Spend all the pow'rg 
Of rant and rhapsody in virtue's praise; 
Be most sublimely good, verbosely grand. 
And with poetic trapjiings grace thy prose, 
Till it outmantle all tiie pride of verse. — 
Ah, tmkling cymbal, and high sounding brass. 
Smitten in vain : sucn music cannot charm 
The eclipse, that intercejjts truth's heav'nly beam. 
And chills and darkens a wide v.and'ring sou!. 
The sTiLii SMALL VOICE is wanted. He must speak, 
Whose word leaps forth at once to its effect; 
Wlio calls for thin.58 that are not, and they corae. 



THE WINTER MORNI^J^G WALK. 125 

Grace makes the slave a freeman. 'Tis a change 
That turns to ridicule the turgid speech 
And stately tone of moralists, who boast, 
As if. like him of fabulous renown, 
They had indeed ability to smooth 
The shag of savage nature, and were each 
An Orpheus, and omnipotent in song; 
But transformation of apostate man 
From fool to wise, from earthly to divine, 
Is work for Him that made him. He alone 
( And he, by means in philosophic eyes 
Trivial and worthy of disdain) achieves 
The wonder; humanizing what is brute 
In the lost kind, extracting from the lips 
Of asps their venom, o'erpow'ring strength 
By weakness, and hostility by lov«. 

Patriots have toil'd, and, in their country's cause, 
Bled nobly ; and their deeds, as they deserve, 
Receive proud recompense. We give in charge 
Their names to the sweet lyre. Th' historic muse, 
Proud of the treasure, marches with it down 
To latest times : and Sculpture, in her turn, 
Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass 
To guard them and t' immortalize her trust: 
But fairer wreaths are due, though never paid, 
To those who, posted at the shrine of Truth, 
Have fairn in her defence. A patriot's^, blood. 
Well spent in such a strife, may earn indeed, 
And, for a time, ensure to his lov'd land 
The sweets of liberty and equal laws ; 
But martyrs struggle for a brighter prize, 
And win it with more pain. Their blood is shed 
In confirmation of the noblest claim — 
Our claim to feed upon immortal truth, 
To walk with God, to be divinely free. 
To soar, and to anticipate the skies. 
Yet few remember them. They liv'd unknown, 
Till persecution dragg'd them mto fame. 
And chas'd them up to Heav'n. Their ashea fiew 



126 THE TASK. 

— No marble tells us whither. With their names 
No bard embalms ^nd sanctifies his song: 
And history, so warm on meaner themes, 
Is cold on this. She execrates indeed 
The tyranny that doom'd them to the fire, 
But gives the glorious suff'rers little praise.* 

He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, 
And all are slaves beside. There's not a chain 
That hellish foes, confed'rate for his harm, 
Can wind around him, but he casts it off 
With as much ease as Samson his green withes. 
He looks abroad into the varied field 
Of nature, and though poor, perhaps, compar'd 
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight, 
Calls the delightful scenery all his own. 
His are the mountams, and the valleys his, 
And the resplendent rivers. His t' enjoy 
With a propriety that none can feel, 
But who, with filial confidence inspir'd. 
Can lift to Heav'n an unpresumptuous eye, 
And smiling say — " My Father made them all I't 
Are tiiey not his by a peculiar right, 
And by an emphasis of int'rest his. 
Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy. 
Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind 
With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love. 
That plann'd, and built, and still upholds, a world 
So cloth'd with beauty for rebellious man? 
Yes— ye may fill your garners, ye that reap 
The loaded soil, and ye may waste much good 
In senseless riot ; but ye will not find 
In feast or in the chase, in song or dance, 
A liberty like his. who, uuimpeach'd 
Of usurpation, and to no man's wrong. 
Appropriates nature as his Father's work. 
And has a richer use of your's than you. 
He is indeed a freeman. Free by birth 
Of no mean city; plann'd or ere the hills 

* See iruirte* 



THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 127 

Were built, the fountains open'd, or the sea, 
With ail his roaring multitude of waves. 
His freedom is the same in ev'ry state; 
And no condition of this changeful life, 
So manifold in cares, whose ev'ry day 
Brings its own evil with it, makes it less : 
For he has wings, that neither sickness, pain, 
Nor penury, can cripple or confine. 
Konook so narrow but he spreads them there 
With ease, and is at large. Th' oppressor holds 
His body bound ; but knows not what a range 
His spirit takes, unconscious of a chain; 
And that to bind him is a vain attempt. 
Whom God delights in, and iu whom He dwells. 

Acquaint thyself with God, if thou would'st taste 
His works. Admitted once to his embrace. 
Thou slialt perceive that tliou wast blind before : 
Thine eye shall be instructed; and thine heart, 
Made pure, shall relish with divine delight, 
'Till then unfelt, what hands divine have wrought. 
Brutes graze the mountain-top, with faces prone, 
And eyes intent upon the scanty herb 
It yields them; or, recumbent on its brow. 
Ruminate heedless of the scene outspread 
Beneath, beyond, and stretching far away 
From inland regions to the distant main. 
Man views it, and admires; but rests content 
Witli what he views. The landscape has his praise., 
But not its author, Unconcern'd who form'd 
The Paradise he sees, he finds it such, 
And such well pleas'd to find it, asks no more. 
Not so the mind that has been touch'd from Heav'n, 
And in the school of sacred wisdom taught 
To read His wonders, in whose thought the World, 
Fair as it is, existed ere it was. 
Not for its own sake merely, but for his 
Much more who fashion'd it, he gives it praise; 
Praise that from Earth resulting, as it ought. 
To earth's acknowledg'd sov'reign, finds at once 
Its only just proprietor in Him. 



128 THE TASK. 

The soul that sees him, or receives sublim'd 

Kew faculties, or learns at least t' employ 

More worthily the pow'rs she own'd before, 

Discerns in all things what, with stupid gaze 

Of ignorance, till tlien she overlook'd, 

A ray of heav'nly light, gilding all forms 

Terrestrial in the vast and the minute ; 

The unambiguous footsteps of the God, 

Who gives its lustre to an insect's wing, 

And wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds. 

Much conversant with Heav'n, she often holds 

With those fair ministers of light to man, 

That fill the skies nightly with silent pomp, 

Sweet conference. Inquires what strains were they 

With which Heav'n rang, when ev'ry star, in haste 

To gratulate the new-created Earth, 

t^ent forth a voice, and all the sons of God 

[Shouted for joy. — " Tell me, ye shining hosts, 

" That navigate a sea that knows no storms, 

♦' Beneath a vault unsullied with a cloud, 

" If from your elevation, whence ye view 

" Distinctly scenes invisible to man, 

" And systems, of whose birth no tidings yet 

" Have reach'd this nether world, ye spy a race 

" Favour'd as our's : transgressors from the womb, 

" And hasting to a grave, yet doom'd to rise, 

*' And to possess a brighter Heav'n than your'sl 

*' As one. who. long detain'd on foreign shores, 

*' Pants to return, and when he sees afar 

" His country's weather-bleach'd and batter'd rocks, 

♦' From the green wave emerging, darts an eye 

•' Radiant with joy toward the happy land; 

♦* So 1 with animated hopes behold, 

" And many an aching wish, your beamy fires, 

•» That show like beacons in the blue abyss, 

•' Or<)ain'<i to guide th' embodied spirit home 

" From toilsome 'i!e tonevc-ending rest. 

•' Love kiuiUes as I gaze. I feel cissires 

*' Thar give assurance of their Dwn success, 

*' And that, infus'd from Heav'n, must thither tend." 



THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 129 

S!o reads he nature, whom the lamp of truth 
lUumiDates. Thy lamp, mysterious Word! 
Which whoso sees, no longer wanders lost. 
With intellects bemaz'd in endless doubt, 
But runs the road of wisdom. Thou hast built 
With means that were not, till by thee employ'd, 
Worlds that had never been, hadst thou in strength 
Been less, or less benevolent than strong. 
They are thy witnesses, who speak thy pow'r 
And goodness infinite, but speak in ears 
That hear not, or receive not their report. 
In vain tli}'^ creatures testify of thee. 
Till thou proclaim thyself Their's is indeed 
A teaching voice; but 'tis the praise of thine, 
That whom it teaches it makes prompt to learjj, 
And with the boon gives talents for its use. 
Till thou art heard, imaginations vain 
Possess the heart, and fables false as hell: 
¥et deem'd oracular, lure down to death 
The uninform'd and heedless souls of men. 
We give to chance, blind chance, ourselves as bliad, 
The glory of tliy work ; which yet appears'. 
Perfect and unim.peacliable of blame. 
Challenging human scrutiny, and prov'd 
Then skilful most when most severely judg'd. 
But chance is not ; or is not where thou reign'st: 
Thy providence forbids that fickle pow'r 
(If pow'r she be, that works but to confound) 
To mix her wild vagaries with thy laws. 
Yet thus we dote, refusing while we can 
Instruction, and inventing to ourselves 
Goit such as guilt makes welcome; gods that sleep, 
Or disregard our foiiies. or that sit 
Amus'd spectators of this bustling stage. 
Thee we reject, unable to abide 
Thy purky, till pure as thou art pure. 
Made such by thee, we love thee for that cause, 
For which we shunn'd and hated thee before. 
Then we are free. Then liberty, like day, 
Breaks oa tlie soul, aod by a flash iwna Heav^ji 
G 



130 THE TASK. 

Fires all the faculties with glorious joy, 

A voice is heard that mortal ears hear not. 

Till thou hast touch'd them; 'tis the voice of song, 

A loud Hosanna sent from all thy works ; 

Which he that hears it, with a shout repeats, 

And adds his rapture to the general praise ! 

In that blest moment, Nature, throwing wide 

Her veil opaque, discloses with a smite 

The author of her beauties, who, retir'd 

Behind his own creation, works unseen 

By the impure, and hears his pow'r denied: 

Thou art the source and centre of all minds, 

Their only point of rest, eternal Word ! 

From thee departing they are lost, and rove 

At random, without honour, hope, or peace. 

From thee is all that sooths the life of man : 

His high endeavour, and his glad success, 

His strength to suffer, and his will to serve. 

But O thou bounteous giver of ail good, 

Thou art of all thy gifts thyself the crown ! 

Give what thou canst, without thee we are poor; 

And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away. 



THE TASK. 



BOOK TI. 



ARGUMENT OP THE SIXTH BOOK. 

Je'^Is at a distance.... Their effect. ...A fine noon in winter. ...A 
glicltered walk. ...Meditation better than bool<s....Our famili- 
aiity with the course of nature makes it appear less wonder- 
iV.l than it is.... The transformation that Spring effects in a 
shrubbery, described. ...A mistake concerning the course of 
nature corrected. ...God maintains it by an unremitted act.... 
The amusements fashionable at this hour of the day reproved 
....Animals happy, a delightful sight. ...Origin of cruelty to 
i-^iiimals....That it is a great crime proved from Scripture.... 
That proof illustrated by a tale.... A line drawn between the 
lawful and unlawful destruction of them. ...Their good and 
useful properties insisted on....Ap«logy for the encomiums 
bestowed by the author on aniniiils.... Instances of man's ex- 
travagant praise of man. ...The groans of the creation shall 
Jiave an end. ...A view taken of the restoration of all things.... 
An invocation and an invitation of Him who shall bring it to 
pass. ...The retired man yindica'ed from tf5e charge of Uselgsi- 
ne33....CoacUisloii. 



THE TASK. 

BOOK VI. 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 



THERE is in souls a sympathy v.'ith sounds, 
And as the mind is pitch'd, the ear is pleas'd 
Witb melting airs or martial, brisk, or grave; 
Some chord in unison with what we hear 
Is touch'd within us, and the- heart replies. 
How soft the music of those village bells, 
Falling at intervals upon the ear 
In cadence sweet, now dying all away, 
Now pealing loud again, and louder still, 
Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on! 
With easy force it opens all the ceils 
Where Alem'ry slept. Wherever I have heard 
A kindred melody, the scene recurs. 
And with it ail its pleasures and its pains. 
Such comprehensive views the spirit takes, 
That in a few short moments I retrace 
(As in a map the voyager his course,) 
The windings of my way tnroiigh many years. 
Short as in retrospect the journey seems, 
It seem'd not always short; the rugged path, 



134 THE TASK. 

And prospect oft so dreary and forlorn, 

Mov'd many a sigh at its disheart'nin?: length. 

Yet feelin? present evils, while the past 

Faintly impress the mind or not at all, 

How readily we wish time spent revok'd, 

That we might try the ground again, where once 

(Through inexperience as we now perceive) 

We miss'dthat happiness we might have found'. 

Some friend is gone, perhaps his son's best friend! 

A father, whose authority, in show 

When most severe, and must'ring all its force, 

Was but the graver countenance of love; 

Whose favour, like the clouds of spring, might low'r, 

And utter now and then an awful voice, 

But had a blessing in its darkest frown, 

Threatening at once and nourishing the plant. 

Welov'd, hut not enough, the gentle hand 

Tiiat rear'd us. At a thoughtless age, allur'd 

By ev'ry gilded folly, we renounc'd 

His shelt'ring side, and wilfully forewent 

That converse which we now in vain regret. 

How gladly would the man recall to life 

The boy's neglected sire ! a mother too, 

That softer friend perhaps more gladly still, 

Might he demand them at the gates of death. 

Sorrow has, since they went, subdu'd and tam'd 

The playful humour ; he could now endure, 

(Himself grown sober in the vale of tears,) 

And feel a parent's presence no restraint. 

But not to understand a treasure's worth, 

Till time has stol'n away the slighted good, 

Is cause of half the poverty we feel, 

And makes the World the wilderness it is. 

The few that pray at all, pray oft amiss. 

And, seeking grace t' improve the prize they hold, 

Would urge a wiser suit than asking more. 

The night was winter in his roughest mood; 
The morning sharp and clear. But now at noon 
Upon the southern side of the slant hills, 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 135 

And where the woods fence off the northern blast, 

The season smiles, resigning all its rage. 

And has the warmth of May. The vault is bluft 

Without a cloud, and white without a speck 

The dazzling splendour of the scene below. 

Again the harmony comes o'er the vale; 

And through the trees I view tli' embattled tow'r, 

Whence all the music. I again perceive 

The soothing influence of the wafted strains, 

And settle in soft musings as I tread 

The walk, still verdant, under oaks and elms. 

Whose outspread branches overarch the glade. 

The roof, though moveable through all its length 

As the wind sways it, has yet well suffic'd, 

And, intercepting in their silent fall 

The frequent flakes, has kept a path for me. 

No noise is here, or none that hinders thought. 

The red-breast warble? still, hut is content 

Withslender notes, and more than half suppress'd: 

Pleas'd with his solitude, and flitting light, 

From spray to spray, where'er he rests he shakes 

From many a twig the pendent drops of ice, 

That tinkle in the wither'd leaves below. 

Stillness, accompanied with sounds so soft, 

Charms more than silence. Meditation here 

May think down hours to moments. Here the heart 

May give a useful lesson to the head, 

And Learning wiser grow without his books. 

Knowledge and Wisdom, far from being one. 

Have ofttimes no connexion. Knowledge dwells 

In heads replete with thoughts of other men; 

Wisdom, in minds attentive totheirown. 

Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass. 

The mere material with which Wisdom builds, 

Till smooth'd, and squar'd, and fitted to its place, 

Does but encumber whom it seems t' enrich. 

Knowledge is proud that he has learn'd so much 

Wisdom is humble that he knows no more. 

Books are not seldom talismans and spells, 

By which the magi c art of shrewder vrits 



136 JTHE TASK. 

Holds an unthinking multitucJe enthrall'd. 

Some to the lascination oi a name, 

Surrender judgment hood-vjnk'd. Some J^e style 

Infatuates, and ttiro.gti labyrinths and wilds 

Of error ieads them, by a tune entranc'd. 

While sloth seduces more, too weak to bear 

The insupportable latigue of thought. 

And swallowjug, therefore, without pause or choice 

The total grist unsifted, husks and all. 

Buttrees and rivulets, whose rapid course 

Defies the chtrck of winter, haunts of deer, 

And slieep- walks populous with bleating lambs, 

And lanes, in which the primrose ere her time 

Peeps through the moss, that clothes the hawthors 

root, 
Deceive no student. Wisdom there, and truth, 
Wot shy, as in the World, and to be won 
By slow solicitation, seize at once 
The roving thought, and fix it on themselves. 

What prodigies can pow'r divine perform 
More grand than it produces year by year, 
And all in sight of inattentive man ? 
Familiar with th' effect, we slight the cause, 
And in the constancy of JSature's course, 
The regular return of genial months, 
And rencvatiou of a faded world, 
See naught to wonder at. Should God again, 
As once in Gibeon interrupt the race 
Of th' undeviating and punctual sun, 
How would the world admire! but speaks it les* 
An agency divine, to make him know 
His moment when to sink and when to rise. 
Age after age, than to arrest his course ! 
All we behold is miracle; but seen 
So duly, all is miracle in vain. 
Where now the vital energy, that mov'd 
While summer was, the pure and subtile lymph 
Through th' imperceptible raeand'rjng veins 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 137 

©fleaf andflow'r? It sleeps; andth' icy touch 
Of unprolific winter has impress'd 
A cold stagnation or th' intestine tide. 
But let the months go round, a few short month!, 
And all shall be restor'd. These naked shoots, 
Barren as lances, among -which the wind 
Makes wintry music, sighing as it goes, 
Shall put their graceful foliage on again, 
-And, more aspiring, and with ampler spread. 
Shall ()oast new charms, and more than they have lost. 
Then each in its peculiar honours clad, 
S?hall publish even to the distant eye 
Its family and tribe. Laburnam, rich 
In streaming gold ; syringa, iv'ry pure ; 
The scentless and the scented rose; this red, 
And of a humbler growth, the other* tall, 
And throwing up into the darkest gloom 
Ol neighb'ring cypress, or more sable yew, 
Her silver globes, ligiit as the foamy surf. 
That the wind severs from the broken wave; 
The lilac, various in array, now white. 
Now sanguine, and her beauteous head now set 
With purple spikes pyramidal, as if 
.Studious of ornament, yet unresolv'd 
Which hue she most approv'd, she ehose them all ; 
Copious of flow'rs, the woodbine, pale and wan, 
But well compensating her sickly looks 
With never-cloying odours, early and late; 
Hypericum all bloom, so thick a swarm 
Of flow'rs, like flies clothing her slender rods, 
That scarce a leaf appears; mezereon, tna, 
Though leafless, well attir'd, and thick bfeset 
W'ith blushing wreaths, investing ev'ry spray; 
Althifia with the purple eye ; the broom, 
Tellow and bright, as bullion unalloy'd. 
Her blossoms; and luxuriant above all 
The jasmine, throwing wide her elegant sweets, 
The deep dark green of whose iinvarnish'd leaf 

• The Guelder rose. 
o3 



138 THE TASK. 

Makes more conspicuous, and illumines more 

Tiie bright profusion of her scatter'd stars. — 

These have been, and these shall be in their dayj 

And all this uniform uncolonr'd scene 

Shall be dismantled of its fleecy load. 

And flush into variety again. 

From dearth to plenty, and from death to life, 

Is nature's progress, when she lectures man 

In heav'nly truth; evincing, as she makes 

^he grand transition, that there lives and tTorks 

A soul in all things, and that soul is God. 

The beauties of the -wilderness are his, 

That makes so gay the solitary place, 

Where no eye sees them. And the fairer foFms, 

That cultivation glories in, are his. 

He sets the bright procession on its way, 

And marshals all the order of the year; 

He marks the bounds, -which winter may not ga^s, 

And blunts his pointed fury ; in its case, 

Ilusset and rude, folds up the tender germ, 

Uniiijur'd, with inimitable art; 

And, ere one flow'ry season fades and diesj 

'Designs the blooming wonders of the Dex5> 

Some say that in the origin of things, 
When all creation started into birth, 
The infant elennents receiv'd a law, 
From which they swerve not since. That under FSfFC© 
Of that controlling ordinance they move, '" , 

And need not His immediate hand who firsfe 
^rescrib'd their course, to regulate it now. 
'J'ims dream they, and contrive to save a God 
Th' encumbrance of his own concerns, and sgart 
The great artiiicer of all that moves 
The stress of a continual act, the pain 
Of unremitted vigilance and care. 
As too laborious and severe a task. 
So man, the moth, is not afraid, it seems. 
To span omnipotence, and measure might 
That tnows no measure, by the scanty rule 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 139 

And standard of his own, that is to-day, 
And is not ere to-morrow's sun go down. 
But kow should matter occupy a charge, 
Dull as it is, and satisfy a law 
So vast in its demands, unless impell'd 
To ceaseless service by a ceaseless force, 
And under pressure of some conscious cause? 
The Lord of all, himself through all dilTus'd, 
i^ustains.and is the life of all that lives. 
Kature is but a name for an effect, 
Whose cause is God. He feeds the secret fire, 
By which the mighty process is maintain'd, 
Who sleeps not, is not weary; in whose sight 
Flow crding ages are as transient days; 
Whose work is without labour ; whose designs 
No flaw deiorm3,no difficulty thwarts: 
And v.'hOiie benericence no charge exhausts. 
Slim blind antiquity profan'd, not serv'd, 
With self laugtal rites, and under various names, 
Ft male and mde, Pomona, Fales, Pan, 
And Flora, and Veitumnus; peopling Earth 
Wi-,h tutelary goddesses and gods, 
That were not; snd commending as they wouIJ 
To each some province, garden, rield, or grove. 
JJutall are under one. One spirit — His 
Who wore the platted thorns with bleeding brows=>- 
Kuies universal nature. Not adow'r 
But shows some touch, in freckle, streak, or stain, 
or His unrivall'd pencil, lie inspires 
The'r balmy odoars, and imparts their hues, 
And batiiea their eyes with neccar, and includes, 
In grains as countless as the seaside sands, 
The forms with wh:Ch he sprinkles all the Earth, 
flappy who walks with him ! whom what he finds 
Of flavour or of scent in fruit or llow'r,' 
Or what be views of beautiful or grand - 
In nature, from the broad majestic oak 
To the green blade, that twinkles in the sun. 
Prompts with remembrance of a present God. 
HiS presence, who made all so fair, perceiv'd, 



J40 THE TASK. 

Makes all still fairer. As with him no scene 
Is dreary, so with him all seasons please. 
Though winter had been none, had man been true, 
And Earth be punish'd for its tenant's sake. 
Yet not in vengeance; as this smiling sky, 
yosoon succeeding such an angry night, 
And these dissolving snows, and this clear stream 
Recov'ring fast its liquid music, prove. 

Who, then, that has a mind well strung and tun'd 
To contemplation, and within his reach 
A scene so friendly to his fav'rite task, 
Would waste attention at the checker'd board. 
His host of wooden warriors to and fro 
Marching and countermarching, with an eye 
As fixM as marble, with a forehead ridg'd 
And furrow'd into storms, and with a hand 
Trembling, as if eternity were hung 
In balance on his conduct of a pin ? 
T^or envies he aught more their idle sport,, 
Who pant with application misaiiplied 
To trivial toys, and, pushing iv'ry balls 
Across a velvet level, feel a joy 
Akin to rapture, when the bauble finds 
Its destin'd goal, of difficult access. 
Iv'or deems he wiser him, who gives his noon 
To miss, the mercer's plague, from shop to shop 
Waud'ring, and litt'ring with unfolded silks 
The polish'd counter, and approving none, 
Or promising with smiles to call again. 
J^or him, who by his vanity seduc'd, 
And sooth'd into a dream, that he discerns 
The diff'rence of a Guido from a daub, 
Frequents the crowded auction : station'd there 
As duly as the Langford of the show, 
With glass at eye, and catalogue in hand. 
And tongue accomplish'd in the fulsome cant 
And pedantry that coxcombs learn with easej 
Oft as the price-deciding hammer falls, 
i-le noten it in liis book, then raps hU box, 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. I4l 

Swears 'tis a bargain, rails at his hard fate, 
That he has let it pass — but never bids ! 

ITere unmolested, through whatever sign 
The sun proceeds, I wander. Neither mist, 
I^or freezing sky nor sultry, checking me, 
Nor stranger .intermeddling with my joy. 
E'en in the spring and playtime of the year, 
That calls th' unwonted villager abroad 
With all her little ones, a sportive train, 
To gather kingcups in the yellow mead, 
And prink their hair with daisies, or to pick 
A cheap but wholesome salad from the brook— 
These shades are all my own. The tim'rous bare, 
Grown so familiar with her frequent guest, 
Scarce shuns me; and the stock-dove, unalarm'd, 
Sits cooing in the pinetree, nor suspends 
His long love ditty for my near approach. 
Drawn from his refuge in some lonely elm, 
That age or injury has hoUow'd deep. 
Where, on bis bed of wool and matted leaves, 
He has outslept the winter, ventures forth, 
To frisk awhile, and bask in the warm sun, 
The squirrel, flippant, pert, and full of play : 
He sees me, and at once, swift as a bird. 
Ascends the neighb'ring beech; there whisks his brush, 
Aa(' perks his ears, and stamps, and cries aloud, 
With all the prettiness of feign'd alarm, 
And anger insignificantly fierce. 

The heart is hard in nature, and unfit 
For human fellowship, as being void 
Of sympathy, and therefore dead alike 
To love and friendship both, that is not pleas'd ^ 

With sight of animals enjoying life. 
Nor feels their happiness augment his own. 
The bounding fawn, that darts across the glade 
When none pursues, through mere delight of heart, 
And spirits buoyant with excess of glee; 
The horse as waaton, aad ajasost as fleet, 



142 THE TASK. 

That skims the spacious meadow at full speed, 

Then stops, and snorts, and, throwing high his beels, 

S>tarts to the voluntary race again; 

The very kine that gambol at high noon, 

The total herd receiving first fiom one 

That leads the dance, a summons to he gay, 

Though wild their strange vagai jes, and uncouth 

Tlieir efforts, yet resolv'd, with one consent, 

To give such act and utt'rance as they may 

To ecstacy too big to be suppressed— 

These, and a thousand images ot bliss, 

With which kind Nature graces ev'ry scene, 

Where cruel man defeats not her design, 

Impart to the benevolent, who wish 

All that are capable of pleasure plcas'd, 

A far superior happiness to thejr's. 

The comfort of a reasonable joy. 

Man scarce had ris'n, obedient to his call 
Who form'd him irom the dust, his future grave, 
When he was croiMj'd as never king was since. 
Cod set the diadem upon liis head. 
And angel choirs atteiidcd. Wond'ring stood 
The new-made nionarch, while before him pass'd, 
All happy, and aii perfect in their kind. 
The creatures, summoa'd from their various haunts,. 
To see their sov'reign.aud coniess liis sway. 
"Vast was his empire, ahbolute his pow'r, 
Or bounded only by a law wjiose force 
'Twas his subJimest privilege to feel 
And own — the law of universal love. 
He rul'd with meekness, they obey'd with joy; 
JS'o cruel purpose lurk'd v.ithin his heart, 
And no distrust of his intent in their's. 
So Lden was a set re of harmless .':port, 
Where kindness on Lis part who rul'd the whole, 
Begat a tranquil confidence in all, 
And fear as yet was not, nor cause for fear. 
But sin marr'd ail; and -the revolt of man, 
That source of evils not exhausted yet, 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON". U3 

Was punish'd with revolt of his from him. 

Garden of God, how terrible the change 

Thy groves and lawns then witness'dl Ev'ry heart. 

Each animal, of ev'ry name, conceiv'd 

A jealousy and an instinetive fear, 

And, conscious of some danger, either fled 

Precipitate the loath'd abode of man, 

Or growl'd defiance in such angry sort, 

As taught him too to tremble in his turn. 

Thus harmony and family accord 

Weredriv'n from Paradise; and in that hour 

The seeds of cruelty, that since have swell'd 

To such gigantic and enormous growth, 

Were sown in human nature's fruitful soil. 

Hence date the persecution and the pain, 

That man inflicts on all inferior kinds, 

Regardless of their j)laiBts. To make him sport, 

To gratify the frenzy of his wrath, 

Or his base gluttony, are causes good 

And just in his account, why bii'd and beast 

Should suffer torture, and the streams be died 

With blood of their inhabitants impal'd. 

Earth groans beneath the burden of a war 

Wag'd with defenceless innocence, while he, 

JN'ot satisfied to prey on all around, 

Adds tenfold bitterness of death by pangs 

Needless, and first torments ere he devoats. 

JNow happiest they that occupy the scenes 

The most remote from his abhorr'd resort, 

Whom once, as delegate of God on Earth, 

They fear'd, and, as his perfect image, lov'd. 

The wilderness is their's, with all its caves. 

Its hollow glens, its thickets, and its plains, 

Unvisitedby man. There they are free, 

And howl and roar as likes them, uncontrolPd^ 

j<loT ask his leave to slumber or to play. 

Wo to the tyrant, if he dare intrude 

Within the confines of their wild domain: 

The lion tells him — I am monarch here — 

Anil if be spare bio), spares iiirn ou the ternss 



M4 THE TASK. 

Of royal mercy, and through gen'roiis scorn 
To rend a victim trembling at his foot. 
In measure, as by force of instinct drawn, 
Or by necessity constrain'd, they live 
Dependent upon man ; those in his fields. 
These at his crib, and some beneath bis roof. 
They prove too often at how dear a rate 
He sells protection— Witness at his foot 
The spaniel dying for some venial fault 
Under dissection of the knotted scourge; 
Witness the patient ox, with stripes and yells 
Driv'n to the slaughter, goaded, as he runs, 
To madness; while the savage at his heels 
Laughs at the frantic suff'rer's fury, spent 
Upon tlie guiltless passenger o'erthrown. 
He too is witness, noblest of the train 
That wait on man, the flight-performing horse ; 
With unsuspecting readiness he takes 
His murd'rer on his bacl<, and, push'd all day 
With bleeding sides and flanks that heave for life, 
To the far distant goal arrives and dies. 
So little mercy shows who needs so much ! 
Does law, so jealous in the cause of man. 
Denounce no doom on the delinquent 1 None. 
He lives and o'er his brimming beaker boasts, 
(As if barbarity were high desert,) 
Th' inglorious feat, and clamorous in praise 
Of the poor brute, seems wisely to suppose 
The honours of his matchless horse his own. 
Eut many a crime, deem'd innocent on Earth, 
Is register'd in Heav'n ; and these no, doubt, 
Have each their record, with a curse annex'd 
Man may dismiss compassion from his heart, 
But God will never. When he charg'd the Jew 
T' assist his foe's down-fallen beast to rise; 
And when the bush-exploring boy, that seiz'd 
The young, to let the parent bird go free; 
Prov'd he not plainly, that his meaner works 
Are yet his care, and have an int'restall, 
All, in the universal Father's love? 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. U* 

On Noah, and in him on all mankind, 

The charter was conferr'd by which we hold 

The flesh of animals in fee, and claim 

O'er all we feed on pow'r of life and death. 

But read the instrument, and mark it well: 

Th' oppression of a tj'rannous control 

Can find no warrant there. Feed, then, and yfeld 

Thanks for thy food. Carnivorous, through sin, 

Feed on the slain, but spare the living brute ! 

^ The Governor of all, himself to all 

So bountiful, in whose attentive ear 

The uofiedg'd raven and the lion's whelp 

Plead not in vain for pity on the pangs 

Of hunger unassuag'd, has interpos'd, 

]Mot seldom, his avenging arm, to smite 

Th' injurious trampler upon Nature's law, 

That claims forbearance even for a brute. 

He hates the hardness of a Balaam's heart; 

And, prophet as he was, he might not strike 

The blameless animal, without rebuke. 

On which he rode. Her opportune offence 

Sav'd him, or th' unrelenting seer had died. 

He sees that human equity is slack 

To interfere, though in so just a cause : 

And makes the task his own. Inspiring dumb 

And helpless victims with a sense oo keen 

Of injury, with such knowledge of their strength 

And such sagacity to take revenge, 

That oft the beast has seem'd to judge the man. 

An ancient, not a legendary tale, 

By one of sound intelligence rehears'd, 

(If such who plead for Providence may seem 

In modern eyes,) shall make the doctrine clear. 

Where England, stretch'd toward the setting suo, 
Narrow and long, o'erlooks the western wave, 
Dwelt young Misagathus ; a scorner he 
Of God and goodness, atheist in ostent, 
Vitjous iu act, in temper savage fierce. 



146 THE TASIK. 

He ioiirney'd ; and his change was as he went, 

Tn join a trav'ller of far different note, 

Evandet, fam'd for piety, for years 

Deserving honour, but for wisdom more. 

Fame had not left the venerable man 

A stranger to the manners of the youth. 

Whose face, too, was familiar to his view. 

Their way was on the margin of the land, 

O'er the e;reen summit of the rocks, whose base 

Beat« bark the roarine suree. scarce heard so higk. 

The charity that warm'd his heart, was raov'd 

At sijrht of the man monster With a smile 

Gentle, and affable : and full of ?race. 

As fearful of offending; whom he wish'd 

Much to persuade he islied his ear with truths 

Not harshly thunder'd forth, or rudely press'd, 

But, like his purpose, gracious, kind, and sweet. 

" An-i dost thou dream " th' impenetrable man 

Exclaim'd. " that me the lullabies of age, 

" And fantasies of dotards, such as thou, 

*' Can cheat oruiove a moment's fear in me? 

" Mark now the proof I give thee, that the brave 

" Need no such aids as superstition lends 

*' To .steel their hearts asainst the dread of death.'* 

He spoke, and to the precipice at hand 

Push'd with a madman's fury. Fancy shrinks. 

And the blood thrills and curdles at the thought 

Of such a gulf as he desigo'd his grave. 

But, though the felon on his back could dare 

The dreadful leap, more rational, his steed 

Declin'd the death, and wheeling swiftly round, 

Or ere his hoof had press'd the crumbling verge, 

Baffled his rider, sav'd against his will. 

The frenzy of the brain may be redress'd 

By med'cine well applied, but without grace 

The heart's insanity admits no cure. 

Enrag'd the more, by what might have reform'd 

His horrible intent, again he sought 

Destruction, with a zeal to be destroy'd, 

With sounding whip, and rowels died in blood. 

But still in Vain. The Providence that meant 



THE WINTER W4LK AT NOON. U7 

A longer date to the far nohler heast, 

Spar'd yet again th' ienoMe for his sake. 

And now, hi» prowess prov'd, and his sincere 

Tncurahle obduracy evinc'd. 

His rage grew cool, and, pleas'd perhaps t'have earn'd 

So cheaply the renown of that att<>mpt. 

With looks of some complacence he resura'd 

His road, deriding much the blank amaze 

Of fiood Evander. stil! where he was left 

Fix'd motionless, and petrified with dread. 

So on they far'd Discoyrse on other themes 

Ensiling seera'd t' obliterate the past ; 

And tamer far for so much fury shown, 

(As is the course of rash and fiery men.) 

The rude companion smil'd, as if transform'd — 

Eut 'twas a transient calm. A storm was near, 

An unsuspected storm. His hour was come. 

The impious challenger of Pow'r divine 

Was now to learn, that Heav'n, though slotv to wrath,, 

Is never with impunity defied. 

His horse, as he had caught his master's mood, 

Snorting, and starting into sudden rage, 

Unbidden, and not now to be controll'd, 

Rush'd totke cliff, and. having reach'd it, stood. 

At once the shock unseated him : he flew 

vSiieer o'er the craggy barrier: and immers'd 

Deep in the flood, found, when he sought it not, 

The death he had deserv'd, and died alone. 

So God wrought double justice : made the fool 

The victim of his own tremendous choice. 

And taught a brute the way to safe revenge. 

I would not enter on my list of friends, 
(Though grac'd with polish'd manners and fine sense, 
Yet wanting sensibility,) the man. 
Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. 
An inadvertent step may crush the snail 
That crawls at ev'ning in the public path; 
But he that has humanity, forewarn'd. 
Will tread aside, and let the reptile lite. 



148 THE TASK. 

The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight, 

And charg'd perhaps with venom, that intrudes, 

A visiter unwelcome, into scenes 

Sacred to neatness and repose, th' alcove, 

The chamber, or refectory, may die : 

A necessary act incurs no blame. 

?Jot so when, held within their proper bounds, 

And guiltless of offence, they range the air, 

Cr take their pastime in the ?pacious field ; 

There they are privileg'd ; and he that hunts 

Or harms them there is guilty of a wrong, 

Disturbs the economy of Nature's realm, 

V7ho, when she form'd, desigu'd them an abode. 

The sum is this : If man's convenience, health, 

Or safety interfere, his rights and claims 

Are paramount, and must extinguish their's. 

Else they are all— the meanest things that are*- 

As free to live, and to enjoy that life, 

As God was free to form them at the first, 

Who in his sov'reign wisdom made them all. 

Ye, therefore, who love mercy, teach your sona 

To love it too. The spring time of our years 

Is soon dishonour'd and defil'd in most 

By budding ills, that ask a prudent hand 

To check them. But, alas ! none sooner shoots, 

If unrestraiu'd, into luxuriant growth, 

Than cruelty, most dev'lish of them ail. 

Mercy to him that sshows it, is the rule 

And righteous limitation ot"its act. 

By which Heav'n moves in pard'ning guilty man; 

And he that shows none, being ripe in years, 

And conscious of the outrage he commits, 

Shall seek it, and not find it, in his turn. 

Distinguish'd much by reason, and still more 
By our capacity of Grace divine. 
From creatuves, that exist but for our sake, 
Which, having serv'd us, perish, we are held 
Accountable ; and God some future day 
WilLreckon with us roundly for th' abuse 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 146 

Of what he deems no mean or trivial trust. 

Superior as we are, they yet depend 

Kot more on human help than we on their's. 

Their strength, or speed, or vigilance, were giv'a 

In aid of our defects. In some are found 

Such teachable and apprehensive parts, 

That man's attainments in his own concerns, 

Match'd with th' expertness of the brutes in their's. 

Are ofttimes vanquish'd and thrown far behind. 

Some show that nice sagacity of smell, 

And read with such discernment, in the port 

And fijure of the man, his secret aim. 

That oft we owe our safety to a skill 

We could not teach, and must despair to learn. 

But learn we might, if not too proud to stoop 

To quadruped instructors, many a good 

And useful quality, and virtue too, 

Rarely exemplified among ourselves. 

Attachment never to be wean'd, or chang'd 

By any change of fortune: proof alike 

Against unkindness, absence, and neglect; 

Fidelity, that neither bribe nor threat 

Can move or warp ; and gratituile for small 

And trivial favours, lasting as the life, 

And glist'nJng even in the dying eye. 

Man praises man. Desert in arts or artfis 
Wins public honour; and ten thousand sit 
Patiently present at a sacred song. 
Commemoration mad; content to hear 
(O wonderful effect of music's power!) 
Messiah's eulogy for Handel's sake ! 
But less, methinks, than sacrilege might serve — 
(For, was it less, what heathen would have dar'd 
To strip Jove's statue of his oaken wreath, 
And hang it up in honour of a man?) 
IVIuch less might serve, when all that we design 
Is but to gratify an itching ear. 
And give the day to a musician's praise. 
Hemember Handel ? Who, that was not born 



J5t) THE TASK. 

Deaf as the dead to harmony, forgets, 

Or can, the more than Homer of his age? 

Yes— we remember him; and while we prais© 

A talent so divine, remember too 

Tiiat His most holy book from whom it caine, 

Was never meant, was never us'd before, 

To buckram out the mem'ry of a man. 

But hush! — the Muse perhaps is too severe: 

And with a gravity beyonti the size 

And measure of th' offence, rebukes a deed 

Less impious than absurd, and owing more 

To want of judgment than to wrong design. 

So in the chapel of old Ely House, 

When wand'ring Charles, who meant to be the third, 

Had fled from William, and the news was fresh, 

The simple clerk, but loyal, did announce, 

And eke did rear right merrily, two staves, 

Sung to the praise and glory of King George '. 

— Man praises man : and Garrick's mem'ry next. 

When time hath somewhat mellow'd it, and made 

The idol of our worship while he liv'd 

The God of our idolatry once more, 

Shall have its altar ■, and the World shall go 

In pilgrimage to bow before his shrine. 

The theatre too small, shall suttbcate 

Its squeez'd contents, and more than it admits 

Shall sigh at their exclusion, and return 

Ungratilied : for there some noble lord 

Shall sturt'his shoulders with King Richard's bunch. 

Or wrap himself in Hamlet's inky cloak. 

And strut, and storm, and straddle, stamp and stare. 

To show the world how Garrick did not act. 

For Garrick was a worshipper himself; 

He drew the liturgy, ami fram'd the rites 

And solemn ceremonial of the day, 

And call'd the World to worship on the banks 

Of Avon, fam'd in song. Ah, pleasant proof 

That piety has still in human hearts 

Some place, a spark or two not yet extinet, 

The mulb'rry tree was hmg with bloouiiflg wreaths: 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 151 

The mulb'rrystree stood centre of the dance; 

The mulb'rry tree was hymn'd with dulcet airs; 

And trou) his touchwood trunk the muib'rry tree 

Supplied such relics as devotion holds 

Still sacred, and preserves with pious care. 

So 'twas a hallow'd time: decorum reign'd, 

And mirth without ottence. No few return'd, 

Doubtless much edified, and all refreshM. 

—Alan praises man. The rabble all alive 

From tippling benches, cellars, stalls, and styes. 

Swarm in the streets. The statesman of the day, 

A pompous and slow-moving pageant, cornea. 

Some shout him, and some hang upon his ear, 

To gaze in's eyes, and bless him. Maidens wave 

Their kerchiefs, and old women weep for joy: 

W hile others, not so satisfied, unhorse 

The gilded equipage, and turning loose 

His steeds, usurp a place they well deserve. 

Why? what has charm'd them J Hath be sav'd the 

state 1 
No. Doth he purpose its salvation ? No. 
Enchanting novelty, that moon at full, 
That finds out ev'ry crevice of the head 
That is not sound, and perfect, hath in their's 
Wrought this disturbance. But the wane is near, 
Anu his own cattle must suffice him soon. 
Thus idly do we waste the breath of praise, 
And dedicate a tribute, in its use 
And just direction sacred, to a thing 
Doom'd to the dust, or lodg'd already there. 
Encomium in old time was poet's work ; 
But poets, having lavishly long since 
Exhausted all materials of the art, 
The task now falls into the public hand; 
And I contented with a humble theme, 
Have pour'd my stream of panegyric down 
The vale of Nature, where it creeps and winds 
Among her lovely works with a secure 
And unambitious course, reflecting clear. 
If BOl the virtues, yet the worth of brates. 



1S2 THE TASK. 

And I am recompensed, and deem the toils 
Of poetry not lost, if verse of mine 
May stand between an animal and wo, 
And teacli one tyrant pity for his drudge. 

The groans of Nature in this nether world. 
Which heav'n has heard for ages, have an end. 
Foretold by prophets, and by poets sung. 
Whose fire was kindled at the prophets' lamp; 
The time of rest, the promis'd sabbath, comes. 
Six thousand years of sorrow have well nigh 
FulfilPd their tardy and disastrous course 
Over a sinful world : and what remains 
Of this tempestuous state of human things 
Is merely as the working of a sea 
Before a calm that rocks itself to rest; 
For He, whose car the winds are, and the clouds 
The dust that waits upon his sultry march. 
When sin hath mov'd him, and his wrath is hoti 
Shall visit Earth in mercy; shall descend 
Propitious in his chariot pav'd with love ; 
And what his storms have blasted and defac'd, 
For man's revolt, shall with a smile repair. 

Sweet is the harp of prophecy; too sweet 
Kot to be wrong'd by a mere mortal touch ; 
Korean the wonders it records be sung 
To meaner music, and not suffer loss. 
But when a poet, or when one like me, 
Happy to rove among poetic flow'rs, 
Though poor in skill to rear them, lights at last 
On some fair theme, some theme divinely fair. 
Such is the impulse an') the spur he feels, 
To give it praise proportion'd to its worth, 
That not t' attempt it, arduous as he deems 
The labour, were a task more arduous still. 

O scenes surpassing fable, and yet true. 
Scenes of accojnplish'd bliss ! which who can sCCi 
Though but ifl distaat prospect, and not feel 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 153 

His soul refresh'd with foretaste of the joy ? 
Rivers of gladness water all the Earth, 
And clothe all climes with heautj- ; the reproach 
Of barrenness is past. The fruitful field 
Laughs with abundance; and the land, once lean, 
Or fertile only in its own disgrace, 
Exults to see its thistly curse repeal'd. 
The various seasons woven into one, 
And that one season an eternal spring, 
The garden fears no Wight, and needs no fence, 
For there is none to covet, all are full. 
The lion, and the libbard, and the bear. 
Graze with the fearless flocks ; all bask at noon 
Together, or all gambol in the shade 
Of the same grove, and drink one common streami 
Antipathies are none. No foe to man 
Lurks in the serpent now : the mother sees. 
And smiles to see, her infant's playful hand 
Ptretch'd forth to dally with the crested worm, 
To stroke his azure neck, or to receive 
The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue. 
All creatures worship man, and all mankind 
One Lord, one Father. Error has no place ; 
That creeping pestilence is driv'n away; 
The breath of Heav'n has chas'd it. In the heart 
No passion touches a discordant string, 
But all is harmony and love. Disease 
Is not: the pure and uncontaminate blood 
Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age. 
One song employs all nations; and all cry, 
" Worthy the Lamb, for be was slain for us !" 
The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks 
.Shout to .each other, and the mountain tops 
Prom distant mountains catch the flying joy- 
Till, nation after nation taught the strain. 
Earth rolls the rapturous hosanna round. 
Behold the measure of the promise fill'd; 
See Salem built, the labour of a God ! 
Bright as a sun the sacred city shines; 
All bingdoflis and all princes of the Earth 
H 



J54 THE TASK. 

Flock to that light ; the glory of all lands ' \ 

Flows into her; unbounded is her joy, 

And endless her increase. Thy rams are there, 

I^ebaioth,"^ and the flocks of Kedar tiiere: 

The looms of Ormus, and the mines of Ind, ' 

And Saha's spicy groves, pay tribute there. ' 

Praise is in all lier gates; upon her walls, 

And in her streets, and in her spacious courts^ 

Is heard salvation. Eastern Java there 

'Kneels ■v\ith the native of the farthest west; 

And iEthiopia spreads abroad the hand. 

And worships. Her report has travell'd fortli i 

Into all lands. From ev'ry clime they come 

To see thy beauty and to share thy joy, ;| 

O Sion ! an assembly such as Earth , 

Saw never, such as Heav'u stoops down to see. , 

Thus heav'nward all thinj^s tend. For all were oncc '| 
Perfert, and all must he at length restor'd. fj 

So God lias greatly purpos'd; vsho would else I 

Tn bis dishonour'd works himself endure 
■ Dishonour, and be wrong'd without redress. 
Haste, then, and wheel away a shatter'd world, 
Ye slow-revolving seasons ! we would see 
(A s'Zht to which our eyes are strangers yet) 
A world, that does not dread and hate his laws, 
And suffer for its crime; would learn how fair 
The creature is, that God pronounces good; 
How pleasant in itself what pleases him. j 

How ev'ry drop of honey hides a sting: 
"Worms wind themselves into our sweetest flow'ts; 
And e'en the joy, that haply some poor heart 
Pen VPS from Heav'n, pure as the fountain is. 
Is sullied in the stream, taking a taint 
From touch of human lips, at best impure. 

• Nebaiotli and Kedar, the sons of IshTr.ael, and progenitors c. 
the ALrdbs in the prophetic Scripture here iUluded to, maj bi, 
reasonably considered as rtjresentativss of the Gentiles a; 
arge. 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON, 15S 

for a world in principle as chaste 
As this is gross and selfish! over which 
Custom and prejudice shall bear no sway, 
That govern all things here, should'ring aside 
The meek and modest Truth, and forcing her 
To seek a refuge from the tongue of Strife 

In nooks obscure, far from the ways of men • 

Where Violence shall never lift the sword ' 

Nor Cunning justify the proud man's wrou-, 

Leaving the poor no remedy but tears • ° 

Where he that fills an office, shall esteem 

Th' occasion it presents of doing good 

More than the perquisite: where Law shall speak 

Seldom, and never but as Wisdom prompts 

And Equity : nor jealous more to guard 

A worthless form than to decide alight : 

Where Fashion shall not sanctify abuse, 

Nor smooth Good-breeding (supplemental grace) 

With lean performance ape the work of Love! 

Come, then, and, added to thy many crowns. 
Receive yet one, the crown of all the Earth 
Thou who alone art worthy ! It was thine ' 
By ancient covenant, ere Nature's birth- 
And thou hast made it thine by purchase'since 
And o'erpaid its value with thy blood ' 

Thy saints proclaim thee king; and in their hearts 

1 hy title IS engraven with a pen 
Dipp'd in the fountain of eternal love. 

Thy saints proclaim thee king; and thy delay 

Cives courage to their foes, who, could they see 

The dawn of thy last advent, long desir'd, 

Would creep into the bowels of the hills,' 

And flee for safety to the falling rocks. 

The very spirit of the would is tir'd " 

Of its own taunting question, ask'd so long, 

•' Where is the promise of your Lord's approach '"' 

The infidel has shot his bolts away, 

Till, his exhausted quiver yielding none. 

Be gleans the blunted shafts, that have r'ecoird, 



156 THE TASK. 

And aims them at the shield of Truth again. 

The veil is rent, rent too by priestly hands, 

That hides divinity from mortal eyes; 

And all the naysteries to faith propos'd, 

Insulted and traduc'd are cast aside, 

As useless, to the moles and to the bats. 

They now are deem'd the faithful, and are prais'd, 

Who, constant only in rejecting Thee, 

Deny thy t.^odhead with a martyr's zeal. 

And quit their office for their error's sake. 

Blind and in love with darkness I yet e'en these 

Worthy, compar'd with sycophants, who knee 

Thy name adoring, and then preach thee man; 
So fares thy church. Rut how thy church may fare 
The world takes little thought. Who will, may preach, 
And what they will. All pastors arealike 

To wand'ring sheep, resolv'd to follow none. 

Two gods divide them all— Pleasure and frain; 

For these they live, they sacrifice to these, 

And in their service wage perpetual war 

AVith Conscience and with Thee. Lust in their hear% 

And mischief in their hands, they roam the Earth 

To prey upon each other; stubborn, fierce, 

High-minded, foaming out their own disgrace. 

Th^y prophets speak of such; and noting down 

The features of the last degen'rate times. 

Exhibit ev'ry lineament of these. 

Come, then, and, added to thy many crowns, 

Keceive yet one. as radiant as the rest, 

Due to thy last and most ettectual work. 

Thy word fulfiU'd, the conquest of a world! 

He is the happy man, whose life e'en now 
Shows somewhat of that happier life to come; 
Who, doom'd to an obscure but tranquil state, 
Is pleased with it, and, were he free to choose. 
Would make his fate his choice ; whom peace, the frui 
Of virtue, and whom virtue, fruit of faith, 
Preimre for happiness ; bespeak him one 
Content indeed to sojourn while be most 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 157 

Below the skies, ^ut bavins: there his home. 

The World o'erlooks him in her busy search 

Of ob.iects more ilhi?trious in her view; 

And, occupied as earnestly as she. 

Though more siihlimely he o'erlooks the World. 

She scorns his pleasures, for she knows them not; 

He seeks not her's for he has prov'd them vain. 

He cannot skim the ground like summer birds 

Pursuing gilded flies; and such he deems 

Her honour?, her emoluments, her joys. 

Therefore in contemplation is his bliss. 

Whose power is such that whom she lifts from Earllt 

She makes familiar with a Heav'n unseen. 

And shows him glories yet to be reveal'd. 

Not slothful he, though seeming unemploy'c!. 

And censur'd oft as useles-s Stillest streams 

Oft water fairest meadows, and the bird 

That flutters Ifiast is longest on the wing. 

Ask him, indeed, what trophies he has raisM, 

Or what aehievements of immortal fame 

He purposes, and he shall answer— None. 

His warfare is within. There, unfatieu'd. 

His fervent spirit labours. There he fights, 

And there obtains fresh triumphs o'er himself. 

And never-with'ring. wreaths, compar'd with whicli, 

The laurels that a Cajsar reaps are weeds. 

Perhaps the self-approving, haughty world, 

That as she sweeps him with her whistling silks 

Scarce deigns to noti'-ehim. or if she see. 

Deems him a cipher in the works of God, 

Receives advantage from his noiseless hours, 

Of which she little dreams. Perhaps she owes 

Her sunshine and her rain, her blooming spring 

And plenteous harvest, tothepray'r he makes, 

When, Isaac like, the solitary saint . 

Walks forth to meditate at eventide. 

And think on her who thinks not for herself. 

Forfive him. then, thou bustler in concerns 

Of little worth, an idler in the best. 

If, author of no mischief and solne good, 



158 THE TASK. 

He seek his proper happiness by m^ans 
That may advance, but cannot hinder, thine, 
ISoT, though he tread the secret path of life, 
Engage no notice, and enjoy much ease, 
Account him an encumbrance on the state, 
Receiving benefits, and rend'ring none. 
His sphere, though humble, if that humble sphere 
Shine with his fair example; and though small 
His influence, if that influence all be spent 
In soothing sorrow, and in quenching strife, 
In aiding helpless indigence in -works 
From which at least a grateful few derive 
Some taste of comfort in a world of wo ; 
Then let the supercilious great confess 
He serves his country. recoHipenses well 
The state, beneath the shadow of whose vine 
He sits secure, and in the scale of life 
Holds no ignoble, though a slighted, place. 
The man, whose virtues are more felt than seen, 
Must drop indeed the hope of public praise; 
But he may boast, what few that win it can, 
That if his country stand not by his skill, 
At least his lollies have not wrought her fall. 
Polite Refinement offers him in vain 
Her golden tube, through which a sensual World 
Draws gross impurity, and likes it well. 
The neat conveyance hiding all the oEFence. 
Not that he peevishly rejects a mode. 
Because that World adopts it. If it bear 
The stamp and clear impression of.good sense, 
And be not costly more than of true worth, 
He puts it on, and for decorum sake 
Can wear it e'en as gracefully as she. 
She judges of refinement by tfie eye; 
He, by the test of conscience, and a heart 
JJot soon (leceiv'd; aware, that what is base 
iSIo polish can make sterling; and that vice. 
Though well perfum'dand elegantly dress'd, 
Like an unburied carcass trick'd with QowVs, 
is but a garaisb'U Quhsmce, fitter ftir 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 159 

For cleanly riddance than for fair attire. 

tSo life glides smoothly and by stealth away, 

More golden than that age of fabled gold 

Renown'd in ancient song; not vex'd with care 

Or stain'd with guilt, beneficent, approv'd 

Of God and man, and peaceful in its end. 

Fo glide my life away ! and so at last. 

My share of duties decently fulfiU'd, 

I\Iay Sonne disease, not tardy to perform 

Its destin'd office, yet with gentle stroke, 

Dismiss me weary to a safe retreat 

Beneath the turf that I have often trod. 

It shall not grieve me then, that once, when call'd 

To dress a Sofa with the flow'js of verse, 

I play'd awhile, obedient to the fair. 

With that light Task ; but soon, to please her more, 

Whom flowers alone I knew would little please. 

Let fall th' unfinished wreath, and rov'd for fruit; 

Rov'd far, and gather'd much: some harsh, 'tis true, 

Pick'd from the thorns and briars of reproof. 

But wholesome, well digested; grateful some 

To palates tliat can taste immortal truth; 

Insipid else, and sure to be despis'd. 

But all is in His hand whose praise I seek. 

In vain the poet sings, and the World hears, 

If he regard not, though divine the theme. 

'Tis not in artful measures, in the chime 

And idle tinkling of a minstrel's lyre, 

To charm His ear, whose eye is on the heart. 

Whose frown can disappoint the proudest straiO; 

Whose approbation— prosper even mine. 



AS 



EPISTLE TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. 



Dear Joseph— five and twenty years ago — 
Alas, how time escapes ! — 'tis even so — 
With frequent intercourse, and always sweet. 
And always friendly, we were wont to cheat 
A tedious hour — and now we never meet ! 
As some grave gentleman in Terence says, 
('Twas therefore much the same in ancient days,) 
Good lack, we know not what to-morrow brings — 
Strange fluctuation of all human things ! 
True Changes will befall, and friends may part, 
But distance only cannot change the heart; 
And, were I call'd to prove th' assertion true, 
One proof should serve — a reference to you. 

Whence comes it, then, that in the vane of life, 
Though nothing have occur'd to kindle strife. 
We find the friends we fancied we had won, 
Though num'rous once, reduc'd to few or none ? 
Can gold grow worthless, that has stood the touch? 
No; gold they seem'd, but they were never sucb. 

Horatio's servant once, with bow and cringe, 
Swinging the parlour door upon its hJDge, 

B 2 



162 AN EPISTLE TO 

Dreading a negative, and overaw'd 
Lest he should trespass, begg'd to go abroad. 
Go, fellow !— whilher !— turning short about— 
Kay— Stay at home— you're always going out. 
'Tis but a step, sir, just at the street's end. — 
For what?— An please you, sir, to see a friend. — 
A friend! Horalio cried, and seem'd to start- 
Yea, marry shait thou, and with all my heart— 
And feti;h my cloak; for, though the night be raw, 
I'll see him too— the /irst I ever saw. 

I knew the man, and knew bis nature mild, 
And was his plaything often when a child; 
But somewhat at that moment pinch'd him close, 
Else he was seldom bitter or morose. 
Perhaps his confidence just then betray'd. 
His srief might prompt him with the speech he made ; 
Perliaps 'twas mere good humour gave it birth, 
The harmless play of pleasantry and mirth, 
ilow'cr it was, his language, in my mind, 
Bespoke at least a man that knew mankind. 

But not to moralize too much, and strain, 
To prove an evil, of which ail complain, 
(1 hate long arguments verbosely spun,) 
One story more, dear Hill, and I have done. 
Oncp on a time an emp'ror, a wise man, 
Ko matter where, in China or Japan, 
Decreed, that whosoever should offend 
Against the well-known duties of a friend. 
Convicted once, should ever after wear 
But half a coat, and show his bosom bare. 
The punishment importing this, no doubt. 
That all was naught within, and all found Out. 

happy Britain ! we have not to fear 
Such hard ati'J arbitrary measure here; 
Else, could a law like that which I relate, 
Ouce Lave the sanctiou of our triple state, 



JOSEPH HILL, ESa. J63 

Some few, that I have known in days of old, 
Would run most dreadful risk of catching cold; 
While you, my friend, whatever wind should blow, 
Rlight traverse England safely to and fro, 
An honest man, close-button'd to the chin, 
Broadcloth without, and a warm heart within. 



TIROCINIUM : 



OR, 



A REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 



Kt(pa\aiov 5ti iraSnas opSri ifo(pr) Plato. 

Apxn nohivas OTracTii, viwv rpoipa,... Diog. Lrt^rf. 



TO THE RBV£R£KO 

WILLIAM CAWTHORNE UNWIN, 

RECTOR OF STOCK IN ESSEX, 

THE TUTOR OF HIS TWO SONS, 

THE FOLLOWING 

POEM, 

RECOMMENDING PRIVATE TUITION, IN PREFERENCE 
TO AN EDUCATION AT SCHOOL, 

IS INSCRIBED, 

BY HIS AFFECTIONATE FRIEND, 

WILLIAM COWFER, 

Olney, Nov.6, 1784. 



TIROCINIUIVL 



It is not from his form, in which we trace 
Streng:th join'd with beauty, dignity with grace, 
That man, the master of this globe, derives 
His right of empire over all that lives. 
That form, indeed, th' associate of a mini 
Vast in its pow'rs, ethereal in its kind — 
That form, the labour of almighty skill, 
FramV) for the service of a freeborn will, 
Asserts precedence, and bespeaks control. 
But borrows all its grandeur from the soul. 
Here is the state, the splendour, and the throuf , 
An intellectual kingdom, all her own. 
For her the Mem'ry fills her ample page 
With truths pour'd down from ev'ry distant agB-j 
For her amasses an unbounded store, 
The wisdom of great nations, now no more; 
Though laden, not encumher'd with her spoil ; 
Laborious, yet unconscious of her toil; 
When copiously supplied, then most enlarg'd; 
StiU to be fed, and not to be surcharg'd. 
For her the Fancy, roving unconfin'd, 
The present muse of ev'ry pensive mind, 
Works magic wonders adds a brighter hue 
To Nature's scenes than Nature ever knew. 
At her command winds rise, and waters roar, 
Again she lays them slumb'ring on the shore; 
With flov'r and fruit the wilderness supplies, 
Or bids the rocks in ruder pomp arise. 
For her the Judgment, umpire in the strife 
ThaJ Grace and Nature have to wage througblift, 



i70 TIROCINIUiVI: OR, A 

Quick-sighted arbiter of good and ill, 
Appointed sage preceptor to the will, 
Condemns, approves, and with a faithful voice 
Guides the decisioo of a doubtful choice. 

Why did the fiat of a God give birth 
To yon fair Sun, and his attendant Earth ? 
And when, descending, he resigns the skies, 
Why takes the gentler Moon her turn to rise, 
Whona Ocean feels through all his countless wave?, 
And owns her pow'r on ev'ry shore he laves 1 
Why do the seasons still enrich the year. 
Fruitful and young as in their first career? 
Sfiring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees, 
Piock'd in the cradle of the western breeze; 
Summer in haste the thriving charge receives 
Beneath the shade of her expanded leaves, 
Till Autumn's fiercer heats and plenteous dews 
Die them at last in all their glowing hues — 
'Twere wild profusion all, and bootless waste, 
Pow'r misemploy'd, munificence misplac'd, 
Had not its author dignified the plan, 
And crown'd it with the majesty of man. 
Thus form'd, thus plac d. Intelligent, and taught. 
Look where he will, the wonders God has wrought, 
The wildest seorner of his Maker's laws 
Finds in a sober moment time to pause. 
To press th' important question on his. heart, 
*' Why form'd at all, and wherefore as thou art ?'' 
If man be what he seems, this hour a slave, 
The next mere dust and ashes in the grave; 
Endu'd with reason only to descry 
His crimes and follies with an aching eye; 
With passions, just that he may prove, with pain, 
The force he spends against their fury vain; 
And if, soon after having burnt, by turns, 
With ev'ry lust with which frail Nature burns, 
His being end where death dissolves the bond,] 
The tomb take all, acdall be blank beyoad; 



REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 171 

Then he of all that Mature has brought forth, 
Stands self impeachM the creature of least worth, 
And useless while he lives and w hen he dies, 
Brings into doubt the -wisdom of the skies. 

Truths, that thelearn'd pursue with eager thought, 
Are not important always as dear bought, 
Proving at last, though told in pompous strains, 
A childish waste of philosophic pains ; 
But truths, on which depends our nriain concern, 
That 'tis our shame and mis'ry not lo learn, 
Shine by the side of ev'ry path we tread 
With such a lustre, he that runs may read. 
'Tis true, that if to trifle life away 
Down to the sunset of their latest day, 
Then perisii on futurity's wide shore, 
Like fleeting exhalations, found no more, 
Were all that Heav'n requir'd of human kind. 
And all the plan their destiny design'd. 
What none could rev'rence all might justly blame. 
And man would breathe but for his Maker's shame. 
But reason heard, and nature well perut-'d. 
At once the dreaming mmd is disabus'd. 
If all we find possessing earth, sea, air. 
Reflect his attributes who plac'd them there, 
Fulfil the purpose, and appear design'd 
Proofs of the wisdom of th' all-seeing mind, 
'Tis plain the creature, whom he chose t' invest 
With kingship and dominion o'er the rest, 
Receiv'd his nobler nature, and was made 
Fit for the pow'r in which he stands array'd; 
That first, or last, hereafter, if not here. 
He too might make his author's wisdom clear. 
Praise him on Earth, or, obstinately dumb, 
Sud'er his justice in a world to come. 
This once believ'd, 'twere logic misapplied, 
To prove a conseqiience, by none denied, 
That we are bound to cast the minds of youth 
Betimes ijto the mould of heav'nly truthj 



172 TIROCINIUM : OR, A 

That taught of God they may indeed be wise* 
Nor, ignorautly wand'ring, miss the skies. 

In early days the conscience has in most 
A quickness, which iu latter life is lost: 
I'reserv'd from guilt by salutary fears. 
Or guilty, soon relenting into tears. 
Too careless often, as our years proceed, 
What friends we sort with, or what books we read, 
Our parents yet exert a prudent care. 
To feed our infant minds with proper fare ; 
And wisely store the nurs'ryhy degrees 
With wholesome learnin?, yet arquir'd with ease. 
Neatly secur'd from being soil'd or torn 
Beneath a pane of thin translucent horn, 
A book, (to please us at a tender age 
'Tis call'd a book, though but a single page.) 
Presents the pray'r the Saviour deign'd to teach. 
Which children use, and parsons — when they preach. 
Lisping our syllables, we scramble next 
Through moral narrative, or sacred text; 
And learn with wonder how this world began. 
Who made, who marr'd, and who has ransom'd, man. 
Points which, unless the Scripture made them plaiov 
The wisest heads might agitate in vain. 
Othou, whom, borne on fancy's eager wing 
Back to the season of life's happy spring, 
T pleas'd remember, and, while mem'ry yet 
Holds fast her office here, can ne'er forget; 
Ingenious dreamer, in whose well-told tale 
Sweet fiction and sweet truth alike prevail; 
Whose hum'rous vein, strong sense, and simple style, 
May teach the gayest, make the gravest smile; 
Witty, and well employ'd, and. like thy Lord, 
Speaking in parables his slighted word; 
I name thee not. Ie«tso despis'd a name 
Should move a sneer at thy deserved fame; 
Ifet e'en in transitory life's late day, 
That mingles all nay brown with sober gray, 



REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 173 

Revere the man, whose pilgrim marks the road, 

And guides the progress of the soul to God. 

'Twere well with most, if books, that could engage 

Their childhood, pleas 'd them at a riper age; 

The man approving what hadcharm'd the boy, 

Would die at last in comfort, peace, and joy; 

And not with curses on his heart, who stole 

The gem of truth from his unguarded soul. 

The stamp of artless piety impress'd 

By kind tuition on his yielding breast, 

The youth now bearded, and yet pert and raw. 

Regards with scorn, though once receiv'd with aire; 

And, warp'd into the labyrinth of lies, 

That babblers, rall'd philosophers, devise. 

Blasphemes his creed, as founded on a plan 

Replete with dreams unworthy of a man. 

Touch but his nature in its ailing part, 

Assert the native evil of his heart. 

His pride resents the charge, although the proof* 

Rise in his forehead, and seem rank enough; 

Point to the cure, describe a Saviour's cross 

As God's expedient to retrieve his loss. 

The young apostate sickens at the view. 

And hates it with the malice of a Jew. 

How weak the barrier of mere Nature proves^, 
Oppos'd against the pleasures Nature loves! 
While self betray'd, and wilfully undone, 
iShe longs to yield, no sooner woo'd than woH, 
Try now the merits of this blest exchange, 
Of modest truth for wit's eccentric range. 
Time was, he clos'd as he began the day 
With decent duty, not asham'd to pray : 
The practice was a bond upon his heart, 
A pledge he gave for a consistent part ; 
Nor could he dare presumptuously displease 
A i)0w'r confess'd so lately on his knees. 

* See 2 C^iron.ch. xxvt, ver. 19- 



i74 TIROCINIUM : OR, A 

But now farewell all legendary tales, 

The shadows fly, philosophy prevails ; 

Pray'r to the winds, and caution to the waveS" 

Religion maizes thee free bv nature slaves ' ' 

Priests have invented, and the World admir'd 

What knavish priests promulgate as inspir'd ; 

i 111 Reason, now no longer overaw'd, 

Resumes her pow'rs, and spurns the clumsy fraud, 

And, common sense diiFusing real day, 

The meteor of the Gospel dies awav. 

Such rhapsodies our shrewd discerning youth 

I;earn from expert inquirers after truth; 

Whose only care, might truth presume to speak: 

Is not to find what they profess to seek. 

And thus, well tutor'd only while we share 

A mother's lectures and a nurse's care; 

And taught at schools much mythologic'stuff,* 

But sound religion sparingly enough; 

Our early notices of truth, disgrac'd, ' 

Soon lose their credit, and are all effac'd. 

Would you your son should be a sot or dunCe, 
Lascivious, headstrong, or all these at once ; 
That in good time the stripling's finish'd taste 
For loose expense, and fashionable waste, 
Should prove your ruin and his own at last; 
Tram ban in public with a mob of boys, 
Childish in mischief only and in noise, 
Else of a mannish growth, and five in ten 
In infidelity and lewdness, men. 
There shall he learn, ere sixteen winters old, 
That authors are most useful, pawn'd or sold; 

* The author begs lenve to explain... .Sensible that withcui 
such knowlerlge jieither the ancient poets nor historians can be 
tasted, or indeed understood, he does not mean to censure the 
j^ins that are taken to instruct a school boy in the religion of 
the Heathen, but merely that neglect of Christian Culture, vf WCb 
leaves him shamefully ignorant of his own, 



REVIEW OP SCHOOLS. 175 

That pedantry is all that schools impart, 

But taverns teach the knowledge of the heart; 

There waiter Dick, with Bacchanalian lays, 

Shall win his heart, and have his drunken praise, 

His counsellor and bosom friend shall prove. 

And some street-pacing harlot his first love. 

Schools, unless discipline were doubly strong, 

Detain tiieir adolescent charge too long; 

The management of tyroes of eighteen 

Is difficult, their punishment obscene. , 

The stout tall captain, whose superior siz6 

The minor heroes view with envious eyes, 

Becomes their pattern, upon whom they fix 

Their whole attention, and ape all his tricks. 

His pride, that scorns t' obey or to submit, 

With them is courage: his effront'ry, wit. 

His wild excursions, window-breaking feats, 

Robb'ry of gardens, quarrels in the streets. 

His hairbreadth 'scapes, and all his daring schemes, 

Transport them, aad are made their fav'rite theme»» 

In little bosoms such achievements strike 

A kindred spark : they burn to do the like : 

Thus half accomplish'd ere he yet begin 

Toshow the peeping down upon his chin; 

And, as maturity of years comes on. 

Made just th' adept that you design'd your son; 

T' ensure the perseverance of his course, 

And give your monstrous project all its force, 

Send him to college. If he there be tam'd. 

Or in one article of vice reclaim'd, 

Where no regard of ord'nances is shown 

Or look'd for now, the fault must be his own. 

Some sneaking virtue lurks in him, no doubt. 

Where neither strumpets' charms nor drinking bout, 

!Nor gambling practices, can find it out. 

Such youths of spirit, and that spirit too, 

Ye nurs'ries of our boys, we owe to you : 

Though from ourselves the mischief more proceeds, 

For public schools 'tis public folly feeds. 



176 TIROCINIUM : on, A 

The slaves of custom and estahlish'd moJc, 

With packhorse constancy we keep the road. 

Crooked or straight, through quags or thorny dell«, 

True to the jingling of our leader'5 bells. 

To follow foolish precedents, and wink 

With both our eyes, is easier than to think ; 

And such an age as oiir's baulks no expense, 

Except of caution, and of common sense; 

Else sure notorious fact and proof so plain, 

Would turn our steps into a wiser train. 

I blame not those who. with what care they can, 

O'erwatch the num'rous and unruly clan ; 

Or, if ( blame, 'tis only that they dare 

Promise a work, of which they must despair. 

Have ye, ye sage intendants of the whole. 

An ubiquarian presence and control — 

Eiisha's eye, that, when Gehazi stray'd, 

Went with him, and saw all the game he play'd? 

Yes — ye are conscious ; and on all the shelves 

Your pupils strike upon, have struck yourselves. 

Or if, by nature sober, ye had then. 

Boys as ye were, the gravity of men; 

Ye knew at least, by constant proofs addressed 

To ears and eyes, the vices of the rest. 

But ye connive at what ye cannot cure, 

And evils, not to be endur'd, endure, 

Lest pow'r exerted, but without success, 

Should make the littie ye retain still less. 

Ye once were justly fam'd for bringing forth 

Undoubted scholarship and genuine worth; 

And in the firmament of fame still shines 

A glory, bright as that of all the signs. 

Of poets rais'd by you, and statesmen, and divines. 

Teace to them all ! those brilliant times are fled, 

And no such lights are kindling in their stead. 

Our striplings shine indeed, but with such rays. 

Asset the midnight riot in a blaze; 

And seem, if judg'd by their expressive looks, 

Deeper in none than in their surgeons' bookss 



REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. IZ 

Say, muse, (for education made the sons, 
I*fo muse can hesitate, or linger long,) 
What causes move us, knowing as we must, 
That these menageries all fall their trust. 
To send our sons to scout and scamper there, 
While colts and puppies cost us so much care? 

Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise, 
We love the play-place of our early days ; 
The scene is touching, and the heart is stone 
That feels not at that sight, and feels at none. 
The wall on which we tried our graving skill, 
The very name we carv'd subsisting still ; 
The l)ench on which we sat while deep employ'd, 
Tho' mangled, hack'd, and hew'd, not yet destroy'd.-, 
The little ones, unhutton'd, glowing hot, 
Playing our games, and on the very spot ; 
As nappy as we once, to kneel and draw 
The chalky ring, and knuckle down at taw; 
To pitch the l)a!l into the grounded hat. 
Or drive it devious with a dext'rous pat; 
The pleasing spectacle at once excites 
Such recollection of our own delights, 
That, vievTing it, we seem almost t' obtain 
Our innocent siveet simple years again. 
This fond attachment to the well known plac6, 
Whence first we started into life's long race, 
Maintains its hold with such unfaiiing sway, 
We feel it e'en in age, an.J at our latest day. 
Hark ! how the sire of chits, whose future share 
Of Classic food begins to be his care. 
With his own likeness plac'd on either knee. 
Indulges alia lather's heart fsit glee; 
And tells them, as he strokes their si'lver locks, 
That they must soon learn Latin, and to box; 
Then turning, he regales his l;st'ning w.fe 
With all th' adventures of his early life ; 
His skill in coachmanship, or rwiving chaise, 
In bilking tavern bi'ls, and .' - -•ring plays; 
I 



478 TIROCINIUM: OR, A 

What shifts he us'd, detected in a scrape, 
How he was flogg'd or had the luck t' escape; 
What sums he lost at play, and how he sold 
Watch, seals, and all — till all his pranks are told- 
Eetracing thus his frelicks, ('tis a name 
That palliates deeds of folly and of shame,) 
He gives the local bias all its sway ; 
Hesolves that where he play'd bis sons shall play. 
And destines their bright genius to be shown 
Just in the scene where he display'd his own. 
The meek and bashful boy will soon ba taught. 
To be as bold and forward as he ought ; 
The rude will scuffle through with ease enough, 
^reat schools suit best the sturdy and the rou^gb. 
Ah happy designation, prudent choice, 
•T h' event is sure ; expect it, and rejoice ! 
Soon see your wish fulfiU'd in either child — 
The pert made perter, and the tame made wild. 

The great, indeed, by titles, riches, birth, 
T^scus'd th' encumbrance of more solid worth, 
Are best dispos'd of where with most success 
'Dhey may acquire that confident address. 
Those habits of profuse and lewd expense. 
That scorn of all delights but those of sense, 
Which though in plain plebeians we condemn^ 
"With so much reason all expect from them. 
Glut families of less illustrious fame, 
"Whose chief distinction is their spotless name, 
"Whose heirs, their honours none, their income smaUi 
Must shine by true desert or none at all, 
What dream they of, that with so little care 
•They risk their hopes, their dearest treasure, there! 
They dream of little Charles or William grac'd 
With wig prolix, down flowing to his waist; 
'They see th' attentive crowd his talents draw : 
They hear him sptak — the oracle of law. 
The father, who designs his babe a priest, 
"nreams bim episcopally such at least; 



REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. J79 

And while the playful jockey scours the room 

Briskly, astride upon the parlour broom, 

In fancy sees him more superbly ride 

In coach with purple lin'd, and mitres oh its side. 

Events improbable and strange as these, 

Which only a parental eye foresees, 

A public school shall bring to pass with ease. 

But how ! Resides such virtue in that air. 

As must create an appetite forpray'r? 

And will it breathe into him all the zeal, 

That candidates for such a prize should feeJ, 

To take the lead and be the foremost still 

In all true worth and literary skill 1 

" Ah, blind to bright futurity, untaught 

*• The knowledge of the World, and dull of thought] 

" Church ladders are not always mounted best 

" By learned clerks, and Latinists profess'd. 

" 'Th' exalted prize demands an upward look, 

*' Not to be found by poring on a book. 

" Small skill in Latin, and still less in Greek, 

" Is more than adequate to all I seek. 

** Let erudition grace him or not grace, 

" I give the bauble but the second place ; 

" His wealth, fame, honours, all that I intendj 

" Subsist and centre in one point — a friend. 

*' A friend, whate'er he studies or neglects, 

" Shall give him consequence, heal all defects. 

" His intercourse with peers and sons of peers, 

*' There dawns the splendour of his future years : 

*' In that bright quarter his propitious skies 

♦' Shall blush betimes, and there his glory rise. 

" Your Lordship, and Your Grace ! what school can 

teach 
•• A rhet'ric equal to those parts of speech ! 
•' What need of Homer's verse, or Tully's prose, 
" Sweet interjections I if he learn but those? 
*' Let rev'rend churls his ignorance rebuke, 
*' Whostarv'd upon a dog's-ear'd Pentateuch, 
" The parioon knows enough, who knows a dake." 



189 TIROCINIUM : OR, A 

Egregious purpose ! worthily begun 

In harb'rous prostitution of your son; 

Press'ri on his part by means that would disgrace 

A scriv'ner's clerk, or footman out of place, 

And ending, if at last its end be gain'd, 

In sacrilege, in god's own house profan'd! 

It may succeed ; and, if his sins should call 

For more than common punishment, it shall; 

The wretch shall rise, and be the thing on Earth 

Ijeart qualified in honour, learning, worth, 

To occupy a sacred awful post. 

In which the best and worthiest tremble most. 

The royal letters are a thing of course, 

A king, that would, might recommend his horse; 

And deans, no doubt, and chapters with once voice-, 

As bound in duty, would confirm the choice. 

Behold your bishop I well he plays his part, 

Christian in name, and infidel in heart, 

Ghostly in office, earthly in his plan, 

A slave at court, elsewhere a lady's man. 

Dumb as a senator, and as a priest 

A piece of mere church furniture at best; 

To live estrang'd from God his total scope. 

And his end sure, without one glimpse of hope. 

But fair although and feasible it seem. 

Depend not much upon your golden dream : 

For Providence, that seems concern'd t' exempt 

The hallow'd bench from absolute contempt. 

In spite of all the wrigglers into place. 

Still keeps a seat or t«o for worth and grace; 

And therefore 'tis that though the sight be rare. 

We sometimes see a Lowth or Bagot there. 

Ketide-;, school friendships are not always foun^, 

Though fair in promise, permanent and sound, 

The most disint'rested and virtuous minds, 

In early years connected, time unbinds, 

l^ew situations give a diff'rent cast 

Of habit, inclination, temper, taste; 

And he that seem'd our counterpart at first, 

Soon shows the strong similitude j-evers'd. 



REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 181 

Youn? heads are giiU'y and youns; hearts are warm, 

And make misial;cs for manhood to reform. 

Boys are at i-esT but pretty buds unbl-'wi], 

Who^e scent and hues are rather guess'd than UnowH , 

Eai h .''reams that each is just what he appears, 

But learns his error in maturer years, 

"When disposition, like a sail unfurl'd. 

Shows all its rents and patches to the World. 

ri", therefore, e'en when honest in design, 

A boyish friendship mav so soon decline, 

'Twere wiser sure t' inspire a little heart 

With just abhorrence of so mean apart. 

Than set vour son to work at a vile trade 

For wajes so unlikely to be paid. 

Our public hives of puerile resort, 
"That are of chief and most approv'd reportj 
To such base hopes, in many a sordid soul, 
Owe their repute in part, but not the whole. 
A principle, whose proud pretensions pass 
tlnqnestion'd, though the jewel be but glass — 
That with a worhl, not often over nice, 
Ranks as a virtue and is yet a vice ; 
Or rather a 2;ro3s compound, justly tried, 
Of envy, hatred, jealousy, and pride — 
Contributes most perhaps t' enhance their fame j 
And emulation is its specious name. 
Boys once on fire with that contentious zeal. 
Feel all the rage that female rivals feel; 
The prize of beauty in a woman's eyes 
Not brighter than in their's the scholar's priZ^., 
The spirit of that competition burns 
With all varieties of ill hy turns ; 
Each vainly magnifies his own success. 
Resents his fellow's, wishes it were less. 
Exults in his miscarriage if he fail, 
Deems his reward too great if he [trevail. 
And labours to surpass him day and night, 
liess for improvemeat than to tickle spite. 



182 TIROCINIUM: OR, A 

The spur is pow'rful, and I grant its force; 
It pricks the genius forward in its course, 
Allows short time for play, and none for sloth; 
And. felt alike by each, advances both: 
But judge, where so much evil intervenes, 
The end. though plausible, not worth the means. 
Weigh, for a moment, classical desert 
Against a heart deprav'd and temper hurt; 
Hurt, too, perhaps, for life; for early wrong, 
Done to the nobler part, affects it long; 
And you are staunch indeed in learning's cause, 
If you can crown a discipline, that draws 
Such mischiefs after it with much applause. 

Connexion form'd for int'rest, and endear'd 
By selfish views, thus censur'd and cashiered: 
Ami emulation, as engend'ring hate, 
Poom'd to a no less ignominious fate : 
The props of such proud seminaries fall, 
The Jachin and the Boaz of them all. 
Great schools rejected then, as those that swell 
Beyond a size that can be manag'd -well. 
Shall royal institutions miss the bays. 
And small academies win all the praise ? 
Force not my drift beyond its just intent, 
J praise a school as Pope a government; 
So take my juiigmeot in his language dress'J, 
" Whate'er is best administer'd is best." 
Few boys are born with talents that excel, 
But all are capable of living well : 
Then ask not, Whether limited or large? 
E.i", Watch they strictly, or neglect their char^- 
]f anxious only, that their boys may learn. 
While morals languish, a despis'd concern. 
The great and small deserve one common blame, 
DilV'rent in size, but in effect the same. 
Much zeal in virtue's cause all teachers boast, 
hough motives of mere lucre sway the most; 
Therefore in towns and cities they abound. 
For there the game they seek is easie.st found; 



REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 1«3 

Though there, in spite of all that care can do, 

Traps to catch youth are most abundant too. 

If shrewd, and of a well-constructed brain, 

Keen in pursuit, and vig'rous to retain. 

Your son come forth a prodigy of skill ; 

As, wheresoever tau'ght, so form'd he will; 
The pedagogue with self-complacent air, 

fT'laims more than half the praise as his due share. 
But if, with all his genius he betray. 
Not more intelligent than loose and gay, 
rinch vitious habits as disgrace his name, 
Threaten his health, his fortune, and his fame; 
Though want of due restraint alone have bred 
The symptoms, that you see with so much dread: 
Unenvied there, he may sustain alone 
The whole reproach, the fault was all his own. 

O 'tis a sight to be with joy perus'd. 
By all whom sentiment has not abus'd; 
Newfangled sentiment, the boasted grace 
Of those who never feel in the right place ; 
A sight surpassed by none that we can show, 
'Though Vestris on oae leg still shine below; 
A fat her blest with an ingenuous son, 
Father, and friend, and tutor, all in one ; 
How ! — turn agaTn to tales long since forgot, 
jEsop, and Phssdrus, and the rest'!— Why not J 
He will not blush, that has a father's heart, 
To take in childish plays a childish part; 
IJut bends his sturdy back to any toy 
That youth takes pleasure in, to please his boy; 
Then why resign into a stranger's hand 
A task as much within your own command. 
That God and nature, and yourfint'rest too, 
Seem with one voice to delegate to you? 
Why hire a lodging in a house unknown 
For one, whose tend'rest thoughts all hover round 

your own? 
This second weaning, needless as it is. 
How does it lac'rate both your heart and bra ! 



184 TIROCINIUM : OR, A 

Th' indented stick, that loses day by day 

Notch after notch, till all are smooth'd away^ 

Bears witness, long ere his dismission come, 

With what intense desire he wants his home. 

But though the joys he hopes heneath your roof 

Bid fair enough to answer in the proof, 

Harmless and safe, and nat'ral, as they are, 

A disappointment waits him even there: 

Arriv'd, he feels an unexpected change. 

He I)lu8hes, hangs his head, is shy and strange; 

JJo longer ♦akes, as once, with fearless ease, 

His fav'rite stand between his father's knees, 

But seeks the corner of some distant seat, 

An'' eyes the door, and watches a retreat, 

And, least familiar where he should be mostj 

Feels all his happiest privileges lost. 

Alas, poor boy ! — the natural effect 

Of love by absence chill'd into respect. 

Say, what accomplishments, at school acquir'd; 

Brings he to sweeten fruits so undesir'd! 

Thou welldeserv'st an alienated son, 

Unless thy conscious heart acknowledge — none; 

None that, in thy domestic snug recess, 

He had not made his own with more address. 

Though some, perhaps, that shock thy feeling Ta'iad: 

And better never learn'd, or left behind. 

Add, too, that thus estrang'd. thou canst obtain 

By no kind arts his confidence again; 

That here begins with most that long complaint 

Of filial frankness lost, and love grown faint; 

Which, oft neglected, in life's waning years 

A parent pours into re|,ardiess ears. 

Like caterpillars dangling under trees 
By slender threads, and swinging in the breeze^ 
Which filthily bewray and sore disgrace 
The boughs in which arc bred th' unseemly racej 
While ev'ry worm industriously weaves 
And wiflds his web aboatthe meli'ti leaved} 



REVIEW OP SCHOOLS. 185 

Bo num'roiis are the follies that annoy 

The raind and heart of ev'ry sprightly boy; 

Imaginations noxious and perverse. 

Which admonition can alone disperse. 

Th' encroaching nuisance asks a faithful hand, 

Patient, affectionate, of high command, 

To check the procreation of a breed 

Sure to exhaust the plant on which they feed. 

'Tis notenough, that Greek or Roman page, 

At stated hours, his freakish thoughts engage; 

E'en in his pastimes he requires a friend 

To warn, and teach him safely to unbend; 

O'er all his pleasures gently to preside. 

Watch his en'iotions. and control their tide; 

And levying thus, and with an easy sway, 

A tax of profit from his very play, 

T' impress a value, not to be eras'd. 

On moments squander'd else, and running all to Tvaste. 

And seems it nothing in a fathers eye, 

That unimprov'd those many moments fly? 

And is he well content his son should find 

Wo nourishment to feed his growing mind. 

But conjugated verbs, and nouns deciin'd I 

For such is all the mental food purveyed 

By public hacknies in the schooling trade ; 

Who feed a pupil's intellect with store 

Of syntax, truly, but with little more; 

Dismiss their cares, when they dtmiss their flock, 

Machines themselves, and govern'd by a clock. 

Perhaps a father, blest with any brains. 

Would defm it no abuse, or waste of pains, 

T' improve this diet, at no great expense. 

With sav'ry truth and wholesome common sense; 

To lead his son, for prospects of delight, 

To some not steep, though philosophic, height, 

Thence to exhibit to his wond'ring eyes 

Yen circling worlds, their distance, and their sizfe, 

The moons o! Jove, and Saturn's belted ball, 

And the harmonious order of them all ; 

I 2 



186 TIROCINIUM : OR, A 

To shov; liim in an insect or a florvV 

Sue]! miciocospic proof of skill and pow'r, 

As, hid fiom ages past, God now diplays, 

To combat atheists with in naodern days; 

To spread the Earth before him, and commend, 

With designati(^n of the fingers' end, 

Its various parts to his attentive note, 

Thus bringing home to him the most remote ; 

To teach his heart to glow with gen'rous flame, 

Caught from the deeds of men of ancient fame; 

And, more than all, with commendation due. 

To set some living worthy in his view, 

Whose fair example may at once inspire 

A wish to copy what he must adn)ire. 

Such knowledge gain'd betimes, and which appears. 

Though solid, not too weighty for his years, 

Sweet in itself, and not forbiddingsport. 

When health demands it, of athletic sort, 

■\Vould make him — what some lovely boys have been, 

And more than one, perhaps, that I have seen — 

An evidence ami reprehension both 

Of the mere school-boy's lean and tardy growth. 

Art thou a man professionally tied, 
With all thy facultifs elsewhere applied. 
Too busy to intend a meaner care. 
Than bow f enrich thyself, and next thine heir; 
Or art thou (as, though rich, perhaps thou art) 
r.ut poor in knowledge, having none t' impart: — 
Behold that figure, neat, though plainly clad; 
His sprightly mingled with a shade of sad • 
]^ot of a nimble tongue, though now and then 
Heard to articulate like other men; 
]Vo je=:ter, and yet lively in discourse, 
His phrase well chosen, clear, and full of force; 
And his address, if not quite French in ease, 
jNot English stitr, but frank, and form'd to pleafe j 
l,ow in the World, because he scerns its arts ; 
A man of letters, manners, morals, parts ; 



REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 187 

Unpatroniz'd, and therefore little known; 

Wise for himself and his few friends alone— 

5n him thy well-appointed proxy see, 

Arm'd for a worK too difficult for thee; 

Prepar'd by taste, by learning, and true worth, 

To form thy son, to strike iiis genius forth; 

Reneath thy roof, beneath thine eye, to prove 

The force of discipline when back'd by love ; 

To double all thy pleasure in thy child. 

His mind inform'd, his morals undefil'd. 

Safe under such a wing, the boy shall show 

No spots contracted among grooms below, 

Nor taint his speech with meannesses design'd 

By footman Tom for witty and refinVI 

There, in his commerce with the liv'ried herd, 

Lurks the contagion chiefly to be fear'd; 

For since (so fashion dictates,) all who claim 

An higher than a mere plebeian fame, 

Fifid it expedient, come what mischief may. 

To entertain a thief or two in pay, 

(An 1 they that can afford th' expense of more, 

Some half a dozen, and some half a score.) 

Great cause occurs, to save him from a band 

So sure to spoil him, and so near at hand; 

A point secur'd if once he be supplied 

With some such Mentor always at his side. 

Are such men rare ? perhaps they would abound, 

Were occupation easier to be found. 

Were education, else so sure to fail, 

Conilucted on a manageable scale. 

And schools, that have outliv'd all just esteem, 

Exchang'd for the secure domestic scheme. — 

But, having found him. be thou duke or earl, 

.Show thou hast sense enough to prize the pearl. 

And, as thou wouldst th' advancement of thine h^ir 

in all good faculties beneath his care, 

Respect, as is but rational and just, 

A man deein'd worthy of so dear a trust. 

Despis'd by thee, what more can he expect 

Ffoa youthful folly thau the sanae neslect? 



IBS TIROCINIUM: OR, A 

A flat and fatal negative obtains, 

That instant, upon all his future pains; 

HJs lessons tire, his mild rebtikes offend, 

And all tli' instructions of thy son's best friemJ 

Are a stream chok'd, or trickling to no end. 

Doom him not then to solitary meals ; 

But recollect that he has sense, and feels; 

And that, possessor of a soul refin'd. 

An upright heart and cultivated mind, 

His post not mean, his talents not unknown, 

He deems it hard to vegetate alone. 

And, if admitted at thy board he sit. 

Account him no just mark for idle wit; 

Offend not him, whom modesty restrains 

From repartee, with jokes that he disdains; 

Much less transfix his feelings with an oath; 

ISoT frown, unless he vanish with the cloth. — 

And, trust me, his utility may reach 

To more than he is hir'd or bound to teach; 

JVIuch trash unutter'd, and some ills undone, 

Through rev'rence of the censor of thy son. 

But, if thy table be indeed unclean. 
Foul with excess, and with discourse obscene, 
And tiiOH a wretch whom, foU'wing her old plao, 
The World accounts an honourable m:m, 
Because forsooth thy courage ha;^ been tried 
And stood the test, perhaps on the wrong side; 
Though thou hadst never grace enough to prove 
That any thing but vice could win thy love ; — 
Or hast thou a polite, card-playing wife, 
Chain'd to the routs that she frequents for life ; 
Who. just when industry begins to snore, 
Flies, wing'd with joy. to some coach-crowded door: 
And thrice in ev'ry winter throngs thine own 
With half the chariots and sedans in town, 
Thyself meanwhile e'en shifting as thou mayst; 
i^ot very sober though, not very chaste ; 
Or is thine house, though less superb thy rank. 
If not a scene of pleasure, a nsere biaalc, 



REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 183 

And thou at best, and id thy sob'rest mood. 

A trifler vain and empty of all good; 

Though mercy for thyself thou canst have none, 

Hear Nature plead, show mercy to thy son. 

Sav'd from his home, where ev'ry day brings forth 

Some mischief fatal to his future worth, 

Find him a better in a distant spot, 

Within some pious pastor's humble cot, . i-. 

Where vile example, (yours I chiefly mean. 

The most seducing, and the oft'nest seen,) 

May never more bestamp'd upon his breast* 

Not yet perhaps incurably impress'd. 

Where early rest makes early rising sure. 

Disease or comes not, or finds easy cure, 

Prevented much by diet neat and plain; 

Or, if it enter, soon starv'd out again : 

Where all th' attention of his faithful host. 

Discreetly limited to two at most. 

May raise such fruits as shall reward his care, 

And not at last evaporate in air ; 

Where, stillness aiding study, and his mind 

Serene, and to his duties much inclin'd, 

Not occupied in day dreams, as at home, 

Of pleasures past, or follies yet to come, 

His virtuous toil may terminate at last 

In settled habit and decided taste. — 

But whom do I advise ? the fasiiion led, 

Th' incorrigibly wrong, the deaf, the dead, 

Whom care and cool deliberation suit 

Not better much than spectacles a brute; 

Who, if their sens some slight tuition share. 

Deem it of no great moment whose, or where : 

Too proud t' adopt the thoughts of one unknown, 

And much too gay t' liave any of their own. 

But courage, man ! methought the muse replied, 

Mankind are various, and the World is wide : 

The ostrich, silliest of the feather'd kind. 

And form'd of God without a parent's mind, 

Commit.s her eggs, incautious, to the dust. 

Forgetful that tlse foot rray crush the trust :, * 



190 TIRCONIUM : OR, A 

And, while on public nurs'ries they rely. 
Not knowing, and too oft not caring, why, 
Irrational in what they thus preler, 
T^o few, tiiat would seem wise, resemble her. 
But all are not alike Thy warning voice 
May here and there prevent erroneous choice ; 
And some perhaps, who, busy as they are, 
1 et make their progeny their dearest care, 
(Whose hearts will ache, once told what ills may- 
reach 
Their offspring, left upoa so wild a beach,) 
Will need no stress of argument t' enforce 
Th' expedience of a less adventrous course ; 
The rest will slight thy counsel, or con-leinn; 
But they have human feelings— turn to them. 

To you then, tenants of life's middle state, 
Securely plac'd between the small and great, 
Whose character, yet undebauch'd retains 
Two thirds of all the virtue that remains, 
Who wise yourselves, dtsire your son should learn 
Your wisdom and your ways — to you I turn. 
Look round you on a World perversely blind; 
See what contempt is fali'ji on humankind ; 
See wealth abus'd, and dignities misplac'd, 
Great titles, offices, and trusts di?grac'd. 
Long lines of ancestry, renown'd of old, 
Their noble qualities all quench'd and cold ; 
See Bedlam's closetted and hand-cuff'd charge 
Surpassi'd in frenzy by the mad at large ; 
See great commanders making war a trade, 
Great lawyers, lawyers without study made: 
Churciimen, in whose esteem their blest employ 
Is odious, and their wages all their joy ; 
Who, far enough from furnishing their shelves 
With gospel lore, turn inridels themselves ; 
.See womanhood despis'd, and manhood sham'd 
With infamy too nauseous to be nara'd. 
Fops at all corners, lady-iike in mien, 
Clyeted fellows, smelt ere tliey are eeejif 



REVIEW &F SCHOOLS. m 

Else coarse and rude in manners, and their tongue 
On fire with curses, and with nonsense hung, 
Now flush'd with drunk'noess, now with whoredoin 

pale, 
Tbeir breath a sample of last night's regale ; 
8ee volunteers in all the vilest arts, 
Men well enr1owM,of honourable parts, 
Design'd by Nature wise, but self-made fools ; 
All these, and more like these, were bred at school?-. 
And if it chance, as sometimes chance it will, 
That though school bred the boy be virtuous stilly 
Such rare exceptions, shining in the dark. 
Prove, rather than impeach, the just remark : 
^& here and there a twinkling star descried, 
Serves but to show how black is all beside. 
Now look on him, whose very voice in tone 
Just echoes thine, whose features are thine own, 
And stroke his poHsh'd cheek of purest red. 
And lay thine hund upon his flaxen head, 
And say. My boy, th' unwelcome hour is come, 
When thou, transplanted from thy genial home. 
Must find a colder soil and bleaker air, 
And trust for safety to a stranger's care ; 
What character, what turn thou wilt assume 
From constant converse with 1 know not whom; 
Who there will court thy friendship, with what views, 
And, artless as tbouart, whom thou wilt choose ; 
Though much depends On what thy choice shall be, 
Is all chance-medley, and unknown to me. 
Canst thou, the tear just trembling on thy lids, 
And while the dreadful risk fi reseen forbids; 
Free too, and under no constraining force, 
Unless the sway of cu'^tom warp thy course; 
Lay such a stake upon the losing side. 
Merely to gratify so blind a guide? 
Thou canst not ! Nature, pulling at thine heart, 
Cnnilomns th' unfatherly, tii' imprudent part. 
Tiiou woiildst not, deaf to Nature's tend'rest plea, 
Tarn him adrift upon a rolling sea. 



192 T1R<^1NIU1\I : Ofl, A 

Nor say, Go thither, conscious that there lay 

A brood of asps or quicksamls in his way; 

Then, only goyern'd by the self-same rule 

Of nat'ral pity, send him not to school. 

No — guard him better. Is he not thine own, 

Thyself in miniatiire, thy flesh, thy bonel 

And hop'st thuu not, ('tis ev'ry father's hope,) 

That, since thy strength nnust with thy years elop<?, 

And thou wilt need some comfort, to assuage 

Health's last farewell, a statf of thine old age, 

That then, in recompense of all thy cares. 

Thy child shall show respect to thy gray hairs, 

Befriend thee, of ?.ll other friends bereft, 

Andgive thy life its only cordial left? 

Aware then hov.' much Danger intervenes, 

To compass that good end, forecast the means. 

His heart, now passive, yields to thy command; 

Secure it thine, its key is in thine haai. 

If thou desert thy charge, and throw it wide, 

Nor heed what guests there enter and abide, 

Complain not if attachments lewd and base 

Supplant thee in it, and usurp thy place. 

But, if thou guard its sacred chambers sure 

From vitious inmates and delights impure, 

Either his gratitude shall hold him fast. 

And keep him warm and filial to the last; 

Or. if he prove unkind, (as who can say 

But, being man, and therefore frail, he may ?) 

One comfort yet shall cheer thine ageti heart, 

Howe'er he slight thee, thou hast done thy part 

O barb'rotis ! wouldst thou with a Gothic hand 
Pulldown the schools— what!— all th' schools 1' th' 

laud; 
Or throw them up to liv'ry nags and grooms, 
Or turu them into shops and auction rooms I 
A captious question, sir, (and your's is one,) 
Deserves an answer similar or none. 
Wouldst thou, possessor of a flock, employ, 
■' Appris'd that be is such,) a careless boy, 



REVIEW OP SCHOOLS. 193 

AniJ feed him •well, and give him handsome pay, 
Merely to sleep, and let them run astray 1 
fc'urvey our schools and colleges, and see 
A si!:ht not much unlike my sinjile. 
From education, as the leading cause, 
The public character its colour draws ; 
Thence the prevailing manners take their castj 
Extravagant or sober, loose or chaste. 
Anil, though I would not advertise them yet, 
IJor write on each — This buUding to be let, 
Unless the World were all prepar'd t' embrace 
A plan well worthy to supply their place; 
Yet. backward as they are, and long have beeflj 
To cultivate and keep the morals clean, 
(Forgive the crime,) I wish them, I confess? 
Or better maoag'd, or encoarag'd less? 



TO THE REVEREND MR. NEWTON. 

AN INVITATION INTO THE COUNTRY. 



I. 

The swallows in their torpid state 
Compose their useless wing, 

And bees in hives as idly wait 
The call of early Spring. 

II. 

Tne keenest frost that binds the stream, 
The wildest wind that blows, 

Are neither felt nor fear'd by them, 
Secure of their repose. 

III. 

But man, all feeling and awake. 
The gloomy scene surveys; 

With present ills his heart mustache, 
And pant for brighter days, 

IV. 

©Id Winter, halting o'er the mead, 

Bids me and Mary mourn ; 
But lovely Spring peeps o'er his he^, 

And whispers your return. 



Then April with her sister May, 
Shall chase him from the bow'rs, 

And weave fresh garland* ev'ry day, 
To crown the smiling hours. 



295 TO THE RET MR. NEWTON. 

VI. 

And if a tear that speaks regret 

Of happier times, appear, 
A glimpse of joy, that we have ^let^ 

Shal^ shine and drj' the te^n 



&n the receipt of my Mothers Picture out of Norfolk, 
the gift of my cousin Ann Bodham. 



O THAT those lips had language ! Life has pass'd 
With me but roughly since I heard thee last. 
Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile Isee, 
The same, that oft in childhood solac'd me; 
Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, 
" Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away !" 
The meek intelligence of those dear eyes, 
(Blest be the art that can immortalize. 
The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim 
To quench it,) here shines on me still the same. 

Faithful remembrancer of one so dear, 

welcome guest, though unexpected here? 
Whn bidd'st me honour with an artless song, 
Affectionate, a mother lost so long. 

1 will obey, not willingly alone, 

But gladly, as the precept were her own; 
And, while that face renews my iilial grief; 
Fancy shall weave a charm for Tny relief, 
Shall steep me in Elys^an reverie, 
A momentary dream, that thou art she. 

My mother! when I learn'dthat thou wast dead, 
Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed I 
Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorr'wing son, 
Wretch even then, life's journey just begun? 
Perhapc thon gav'st me, though unfelt, a kiss ; 
Perhaps a tear, ifsouls can weep in bliss — 
Ah, that maternal smile ! it answers— Ycr. 



19B ON THE RECEIPT Ot 

I heard the bell toll'd on thy burial day, 

1 saw the hearse, that bore thee slow away. 

And, turning from my nurs'ry -window, drew 

A long long sigh, and wept a lastradieul 

But was it such ? — It was. — Where thou art gone 

Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown. 

May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore, 

The parting word shall pass my lips no more ! 

Thv maidens, griev'd themselves at my concera, 

Oft gave me promise of thy quick return. 

What ardently I wish'd, I long beliftv'd, 

And disappointed still, was still deceivM. 

Hy expectation ev'ry day beguil'd 

Dupe of to-morron even from a child. 

Thus many a sad to-morrow came and wentf 

Till all my stock of infant sorrow spent, 

T learn'd at last submission to my lot, 

But though I less deplor'd thee, ne'er forgot. 

Where once we dwelt our name is heard no md^Cf 
Children not thine have trod my nurs'ry floor ; 
And where the gard'ner, Robin, day by day, 
Drew me to school along the public way. 
Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapp'd 
In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet cap, 
'Tis now become a histVy little known. 
That once we call'd the past'ral house our owo- 
Short-liv'd possession ! but the record fair. 
That mem'ry keeps of all thy kindness there, 
Still outlives many a storm, that has effac'd 
A thousand ot.her themes less deeply trac'd. 
Thy nightly visits to my chamber made. 
That thou mightst know me safe and warmly laid; 
Thy morning bounties ere I left my home, 
The biscuit, or confectionary plum 
The fragrant waters on my cheeks bestow'd 
By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glow'd : 
All this, and more endearing still than all, ^ 

Thyconslaat Sow of love, that knew ao fall, 



MY MOTHER'S PICTURE. 19,9 

Ne'er roughen'd by those cataracts and breaks, 
That humour iiiterpos'd too often makes; 
And this still legible in mem'ry's page, 
And still to be so to my latest age. 
Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay 
Such honours to thee as my numbers may: 
Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere, 
jyotscorn'd in Heav'n, though little notic'd here. 

Could Time, his flight revers'd, restore the hours, 
When, playing with thy vesture's tissu'd flow'rs. 
The violet, the pink, and jessamine, 
I prick'd them into paper with a pin, 
(And thou wast happier than myself the while, 
Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile,) 
Could those few pleasant days again appear, 
Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here ] 
I would not trust my heart— the dear delight 
Seemssoto be desir'd, perhaps 1 might — 
Hut no — what here we call our life is such, 
So little to be lov'd, and thou so much. 
That I should ill requite thee to constrain 
Thy unbound spirit into bonds again. 

Thou as a gallant bark from Albion's coast, 
(The storms all weather'd and the ocean cross'd,") 
Shoots into port at some well-haven'd isle. 
Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile, 
There sits quiescent on the floods that show 
Her beauteous form reflected clear below, 
While airs impregnated with incense play 
Around her. fanning light her streamers gay ; 
So thou, with sails how swift ! hast reach'd the sIiQi'fe, 
" vrhere tempests never beat nor billows roar,"* 
And thy lov'd consort on the dang'rous tide 
Of life long since has anchor'd by thy side. 
IJut me, scarce hoping to attain that rest, 
Always froip port withheld, always distresS'd— 



200 ON THE RECEIPT, fee. 

Me howling blasts drive devious, teropest-toss'd, 
Sails ripp'd, seams op'uing wide, and compass lost, 
And day by day some current's thwarting force 
Sets me more distant from aprosp'rous course. 
Yet Othe tiiought. that thou art safe, and he ! 
That thought is joy, arrive what may to me. 
My boast is not. that I deduce my birth 
From loins enthron'd and rulers of the Earth ; 
But higher far my proud pretensions rise — 
The son of parents pass'd into the skies. 
And now farewell — Time unrevok'd has run 
His wonted course, yet what I wish'd is done, 
JBy contemplation's help, not sought in vain, 
I seem'd t' have liv'd my childhood o'er again; , 
Tohaverenew'd the joys that once were mine, 
Without the sin of violating thine. 
And while the wings of Fancy still are free, 
And I can view this mimic show of thee, 
Time has but half succeeded in his theft — 
Thyself remov'd, thy pow'F to sooth me left. 



ERIEJNTDSHIP* 



What virtue, or what mental grace 
«ut men unqualified and base 

Will boast it their possession' 
Profusion apes the nobler part ' 
Ofiiherality of heart. 

And dulness of discretion. 

Ifev'rypolishMeem wefind 
Illuminating heart or mind, 
Provoke to imitation; 

^0 wonder friendship does the same, 
Thatjewel of the purest name, 
Or rather constellation. 

No knave butboldly will pretend 
Ihe requisites that form a friend, 

A real and a sound one- 
A'or any fool, he would deceive, 
-But proves as ready to believe, 

And dream that he had found oae. 

Candid, and generous, and just 
Boys care hut little whom they trust 
An error soon corrected— * 

For who but learns iu riper years 

'^Jfn^'I^?'/'!'^" smoothest he appear*, 
is most to be suspected ? 
K 



202 FRIENDSHIP. 

But. here again a danger lies, 
Lest, having misapplied our eyes, 

And taken trash for treasure, 
"We should unwarily conclude 
Friendship a false ideal good, 

A mere Utopian pleasure. 

A.n acquisition rather rare 
Is yet no subject of despair; 

Nor is it ■wise complaining, 
If either on forbidden ground, 
Or where it was not to be found. 

We sought Tvithout attaining. 

J\o friendship will abide the test, 
That stands on sordid interest. 

Or mean self-love erected; 
T^or such as may awhile subsist, 
JJctween the sot and sensualist, 

For vitious ends connected. 

Wlu) seek a friend should come disposed 
T' exhibit in full bloom disclos'd 

The graces and the beauties, 
That form the character he seeks, 
For 'tis a unicn that bespeaks 

Reciprocated duties. 

IVIutunl attention is irnjilied. 
And pcjua! tnitli on either side, . 

And fonytantjy supported; 
'Tis senselcfs arrogance t' accuse 
Another of sinister views, 

Oiir own as much distorted. 

But will sincerity suffice? 
It is indeed above ail price. 
And must be ijiade the basis ; 



PHIENDSHIP. 263 

But ev'ry virtue of the soul 
Must constitute the charming whole, 
All shining in their places. 

A fretful temper will divide 
The closest knot that may be tied, 

iiy ceaseless sharp corrosion; j 
A temper passionate and tierce 
May suddenly your joys disperse 

At one immense explosion. 

In vain the talkative unite 

In hopes of permanen t del ight 

The secret just committed, 
Forgetting its important weight. 
They drop through mere desire (0 prate, 

And by themselves outwitted. 

How bright soe'er the prospect «eems, 
All thoughts of friendship are but dreams 

If envy chance to creep in; * 

An envious man, if you succeed, 
May prove a dang'rous foe indeed, 

But not a friend worth keeping. 

As envy pines at good possess'd, 
So jealousy looks forth distres«'d 

Ou gooii, that seems approachin'^: 
And. if success his steps attend, 
Discerns a rival in. a friend. 

And hates him for encroachin''. 

Hence authors of illustrious name, 
Unless belied by common fame, 

Are sadiv prone to quarrel, 
To deem the wit a friend displays 
A tax u[>on their own just praise, 

And pluck each other's lauris}. 



2D4 FRIENDSHIP, 

A man renownMfor repartee, 
WiH seldom scruple to make free 

With friendship's finest feeling; 
Will thrust a dagger at your hreast, 
And say he wounded you in jest, 

By way of balm for healing. 

Whoever l<pepsan open ear 
For tattlers, will be sure to hear 

Tiie trumpet of contention; 
Aspersion is the babbler's trade, 
To listen is to lend him aid, 

And rush into dissension. 

A friendship, that in frequent fits 
Of controversial rage emits 

Th« sparks of disputation. 
Like hand in hand insurance plat6s_, 
Jlost unavoidably creates 

The thought of conflagration. 

Some fickle creatures boast a soul 
True as a needle to the pole, 

Their humour yet so various — 
They manifest their whole life through 
The needle's deviations too. 
Their love is so precarious. 

The great and small but rarely meet 
On terms of amity complete, 

Plebeians must surrender 
And yield so much to noble folk, 
It is combining fire with smoke, 

Obscurity with splendour. 

gome are so placid and serene 
(As Irish bogs are always green,) 

They sleep secure fmm waking; 
And are indeed a bog, that bears 
Your unpartieipated cares 

Unmov'd and wltliout qua^ipg. 



FRIENDSHIP. 20S 

Courtier and patriot cannot mis 
Their het'roeeneous politics, 

Without an effervescence, 
Like that or salt's with lemon juice, 
Which does not yet like that produce 

A friendly coalescence. 

Religion should extinguish strife, 
And make a calm of human life; 

But friends that chance to differ 
On points, which God has left at larg^, 
How freely will they meet and chargel 

No combalaots are stilTer. 

To prove at last my main intent 
Weeds no expense of arffument, 

No cutting and contriving — 
Seeking a real friend we ^eem 
T' adopt the clitmi? t's golden dream, 

With still less hope of thriving. 

Sometimes the fault is all our own, 
Some Wemish in due time made known 

By trespass or omission; 
Sonaetimes occaion brines to ligl;t 
Our friend's defect long hid from sight, 

And even from suspicion. 

Then judge yourself, and prove your maa 
As circumspectly as you can, 

And, having made election, 
Beware no negligence of your's. 
Such as a frieud hut. ill endures, 

Enfeeble his atfectioa. 

That secrets are a sacred trust. 

That fi lends should be sincere and just. 

That constancy befits tnem, 
Are observations on tlie case 
Thai . savour ir.uch oi commonplace^ 

AdU all the world admits them. 



206 FRIENDSHIP. 

But 'tis not timber, lead, and stone, 
An architect requires aione, 

To Hnish a iiue building — 
The palace were but half complete, 
If he could possibly forget 

The carving and the gilding. 

The nnan that hails you Tom or Jack, 
And proves by thumps upon yo'jr baclc 

How he esteems your merit, 
Is such a friend, that one had need 
Be very much his friend indeed, 

To pardon or to bear it. 

As similarity of mind. 

Or something not to be deSn'd, 

First fixes our attention; 
So manners decent and polite, 
The same we practis'd at first sight; 

Must save it from declension. 

Some act upon this prudent plan, 
" Say little, and hear all you can." 

Safe policy, but hateful — 
So barren sands iuibibe the show'r, 
But render neither fruit nor flow'r 

Unpleasant and ungrateful. 

The man I trust, if shy to me, 
Shall find me as reservM as he, 

No subterfuge or pleading 
Shall win my confidence again — 
I will by no n^eans entertain 

A spy on m> proceeding. 

These samples — for, alas ! at last 
These are but samples and a taste 
Of evils yet unmeation'd— 



FRIENDSHIP. fiO? 

May prove the task a task indeed, 
in which 'tis much iTwe succeed, 
However well-iuteution'd. 

Pursue the search, ami you will find 
Good seiise aiid.knowle(l;':e of mankind 

To be at least expedient, 
-And, after summiiig all liie rest, 
Religion rulins? in the breast 

A principal ingredient. 

The noblest Friendship ever sliown 
The Saviour's history makes known, 

Though some have turn'd f.nd tiirn'dit: 
And, whether being craz'd or blind, 
Or seeing with a hiass'd mind. 

Have not, it seeuis, discern'd it. 

O Friendship ! if my soul forego 
Thy dear delights while here below 

To mortify and grieve ixie, 
May I myself at last appear 
IT.nworthy, base, and insincere, 

Qr maj ray friend deceive ma ' 



THE MORALIZER CORRECTED^ 
A TALE. 



A HERMIT, (or if 'chance you hold 
That title now too trite and old,) 
A man, once young, p-ho livM retir'd 
As hermit could have well desir'd. 
His hours of study clos'd at last, 
Aadfinish'd his concise repast. 
Stoppled his cruise, replac'd his book 
Within its customary nook, 
And, staff in hand set forth to share 
The sober cordial of sweet air, 
Like Isaac, with a mind applied 
To serious thought at ev'ning tide. 
Autumnal rains had made it chill, 
And from the trees, that fring'd his hill, 
Shades slanting at the close of day 
Chill'd more his else delightful way; 
Distant a little mile he spied 
A western bank's still sunny side, 
- And right toward the favour'd place 
Proceeding with his nimblest pace, 
In hope to bask a little yet, 
Just reach'd it when the sun was set. 

Your hermit, young and jovial sirs! 
Learns something from whate'eroccurs- 
And hence, he said, my mind computes 
The leal worth of man's pursuits. 



THE MORALIZER CORRECTED. 209 

His object chosen, wealth or fame, 
Or other sublunary game, 
Imagination to his view 
Presents it deck'd with ev'ry hue 
That can seduce him not to spare 
His pow'rs of best exertion there, 
But youth, health, vigour, to expend 
On so desirable an end. 
Ere long approach life's ev'ning shades'. 
The glow that fancy gave it, fades ; 
And, earn'd too late, it Avants the grace 
That first engag'd him in the chase. 

True, answer'd an angelic guide, 
Attendant at the senior's side — 
But whether all the time it cost. 
To urge the fruitless chase be lost, 
Must be decided by the worth 
Of that which cail'd his ardour forth. 
Trifles pursu'd, whate'er th' event. 
Must cause him shame or discontent; 
A vitious object still is worse. 
Successful there he wins a curse; 
But he, whom e'en in life's last stage 
Endeavours laudable engage, 
Is paid, at least in peace of mind. 
And sense of having well design'd ; 
And if, ere he attain his end. 
His sun precipitate descend, 
A. brighter prize than that he meant 
Shall recompense his mere intent. 
No virtuous wish can bear a date 
Either too early or too late. 



The fonowing Account of the Trcalmcnt of his riiwes 
was inserted by Mr. Cowper in the Geulhmaii's Maga- 
xine, whence it is transcribed. 



Tn the year 1774, being much indisposed both in 
Hiiiid and body, incapable of liiverling myself either 
with company or hooks, and yet in a condition that 
made some diversion necessary. 1 ^as glad of any 
thing that T.'otild engage my attention witifout fa- 
tiguing it. The children of a neighbour of mine had 
a leveret given them for a p!aythin;r; it ^vas al that 
time about three months old. Unilerstanding better 
liow to tease the poor creature than to feed it, and 
.soon becoming v.eary of their charg^e, they readily con- 
sented that their iather, who saw it pining and growing 
leaner every day, should ouer it to my accej>tance. 
I was wiiling enough to take t;je prisoner under my 
protection, perceiving that, in the management of such 
an animal, and in the attempt to tame it, I should iind 
just that sort of employment which my case required. 
It wars soon known among the neighbours that I was 
pleased with the present; and the consequence was, 
that in a short time! had as many leverets olfered to 
me as would have stocked a paddock. I undertook the 
care of three, which it is necessary thai I should here 
distinguish by the names 1 gave them— Puss. Tiney, 
and Bess. JVotwithstanding the two feminine appelia- 
lives. I must inform you that they were all males. 
Imm.ediateiy commencing carpenter, I built them 
houses to sleep in; each had a separate apartment so 
contrived, that their ordure would pass through the 
bot'fom of it i^an earthen pan placed under each, receiv- 
ed whatsoever fell, which being duly emptiefi and 
■washed, they were thus kept perfectly sweet and 



212 ^ 

clean. In the daytime they had the range of a hall, j 
and at night retired each to his own bed, never iu- „ 
trudin? into that of another. i 

Puss grew presently fanniliar, would leap into ray !] 
lap, raise himself upon his hinder feet, and bite the ^ 
hair from my temples He would suffer nietotaivej 
him up. and to carry him about in my arms, and has^ 
more than once fallen fast asleep upon noy knee. He -, 
was ill three days, during which time I nursed him, ; 
kept him apart from his fellows, that they might not 
molest him, (for, like many other wild animals, they, 
persecute one of their own species that is i>)ck,) and by ^ 
constant care, and trying him with a variety «>f herbs,, 
restored him to perfect health. No creature could be, 
more grateful than my patient after his recovery; a 
sentiment which he most significantly expressed by 
licking my hand, first the back of it, then the palm, 
then every finger separately, then between all the 
fingers, as if anxious to leave no part of it unsaluted;. 
a ceremony which he never performed but once again 
tipon a similar occasion. Finding him exttemely trac- 
table, I made it my custom to carry him always after 
breakfast into the garden, where he hid himseb gene- 
rally under the leaves of a cucumber vine, sleeping' 
or chewing the cud till evening ; in the leaves also of 
that vine he found a favourite repast. I had not long 
hai'ituated him to this taste of liberiy, before he began 
to be impatient for the return of the time when he 
might enjoy it He would invite me to the garden by 
drumming upon my knee, and by a look of -uch ex- 
pression, as it «vas not possible to misinterpret. If 
this rhetoric did not immediately succeed, he would 
take the skirt of my coat between his teeth and pull at 
it with a', his force. Thus Puss might be said to be per- 
fectly tamed, the shyness of his nature was done away, 
and on the whole it was visiole by many symptoms, 
which I have not room to enumerate, that he was hap- 
pier in human society than when shut up with hi> 
natural coin'ianiojjs. 



213 

^ot so Tiney, upon him the kindest treatment had 
BOt the least effect. He, too, was siek, and in his sick- 
ness had an equal share of my attention: but if after 
bis recovery, 1 took the liberty to stroke him, he 
•would grunt, strike with his fore feet, spring forward, 
and bite. He was, however, very entertaining in his 
vay ; even his surliness was matter of mirth; and in 
his play he preserved such an air of gravity, and per- 
formed his feats with such a solemnity of manner, that 
in him, too. I had \n agreeable companion. 

Bess, who died soon after he was full grown, and 
•whose death was occasioned by his being turned into 
his box, which had been washed, while it was yet damp, 
was a hare of great humour and drollery. Fuss was 
tamed by gentle usuage ; Tiney was not to be tamed 
at all : and Bess ])ad a courage and confidence that 
made him tame from the beginning. I always admitted 
them into the parlour after supper, when the car- 
pet affording their feet a firm hold, they would frisk, 
and hound, and play a thousand gambols in which Bess, 
beiug remarkably strong and fearless, was always 
superior to the rest, and proved himself the Vestrisof 
the party. One evening the cat, being in the room, 
had the hardiness to pat Be«s upon the cheek, an in- 
dignity which he resented by drumming upon her back 
Tvjth such violence, that the cat was happy to escape 
from under his paws, and hide herself. 

I describe these animals as having each a charac- 
ter of his own. Such they were in fact, and their 
countenances were so expressive of that character, 
that when I looked only on the face of either, 1 im- 
mediately knew which it was It is said that a shep- 
herd, however numerous his flock, soon becomes so 
familiar with their features, that he can, by that indi- 
cation only, distinguish each from all the rest: and 
3'et, to a common observer, the difference is hardly 
perceptible. I doubt not that the same discrimination 
in the cast of countenances would be discoverable in 
hares, and am persuaded that among a thousand of 
tbem flo two couid be found exactly sjnailarj a cijcum- 



214 

Stance little suspected by tliose who liave not had op- 
portunity to observe it. These creatures have a sin- 
gular sajHcity in discoverirg the minutest alteration 
that is made in the place to which they are accustom- 
ed, and instantly apply their nose to the examination 
of a new object. A small hole being burnt in the carpet, 
it was mended with a patch, and that patch in a moment 
underwent the strictest scrutiny. They seem, too, to be 
very much directed by the smell in the choice of their 
favourites: to some persons, though they saw thecfl 
daily, they could never be reconciled, and would even 
scream when they attempted to touch them : but a 
miller coming in ensaged their affections at once: big 
powdered coat had charms tliat were irresistible. It 
is no wonder that my intimate acquaintance with these 
specimens of the kind, has taught me to hold the 
sportsman's amusement in abhorrence: he little knows 
•what amiaiile creatures he. persecutes, of what grati 
tude they are capable, how cheerful they are in Iheir 
spirits, what enjoyment they have of life, and that, 
impressed as they seem with a peculiar dread of man, 
it is only because man gives them peculiar cause for it. 
That I may not be tedious, I will just give a short 
summary of those articlesof diet that suit them best. 

I take it to be a general opinion that they graze, 
but it is an erroneous one, at lea«t grass is not their 
staple: they seem rather to use it medicinally, soon 
quitting it for leaves of almost any kind Sowthistle, 
dandelion, and lettuce, are their favourite vegetables, 
especially the last. I discovered by accident that fine 
■white sand is in great estimation with them; I .sup- 
pose as a digestive. It happened that I was clean- 
ing a birdcage while the hares were with me: I 
placed a pnt filled with such sand upon the floor, 
which, being at once (iirectcd to by a strong instinct, 
they devoured voraciously; since that time I have 
generally taken care to see them well supplied with 
it. They account green corn a delicacy, both I lade 
and stalk, but the ear they seblom oat: straw of any 
kind, espeoialiV wheat straw, is another of their daiil- 



215 

ties ; (hey wiil feed greedily upon oats, but if fur- 
nislied Avith clean straw never vi-dni t!ie.n); it serves 
them also for a bed, and if shaken up daily, will be 
kept sweet and dry for a considerable time. They do 
not indeed require aronr.atic herbs, but will eat a 
small quantity of them with great relish, and are par- 
ticularly fond of the plant called musl; : they seem 
to resemble sheep in this, that, if their pasture be 
too succulent, they are very subject to the rot : to 
prevent which, I always made bread their principal 
nourishment, and, filling a paj! with it cut into small 
squares, placed it every evening in their chaml'ers, 
for they feed only at evening and in the ni;rht ; du- 
ring the winter, when vegetables were not to be got, 
1 mingled this mess of bread with shreds of carrot, 
adding to it the rind of apples cut extremely thin; 
for, though tliey are fond of the paring, the apple it- 
self disgusts them. These, however, not being a suf- 
ficient substitute for the juice of summer herbs, they 
must at this time be supplied with water, but so 
placed, that they cannot overset it into their beds. I 
ninst not omit, tbatoccasionally they are much pleased 
■with twigs of hawthorn and of the common brier, 
eating even the very wood when it is of considerable 
thicUne.ss. 

Bess, I have said, died yoimg; Tiney lived to be 
rjne years old, and died at last, I have reason to 
think, of some hurt in his loins by a (all; Puss is still 
living, and has just completed his tentii year, disco- 
vering no signs of decay, nor even of age, except that 
lie is grown more discreet and less frolicksome than he 
was. I cannot conclude without observing, that I 
have lately introduced a dog to bis acquaintance — a 
spaniel that had never seen a hare, to a hare that had 
never seen a spaniel. I did it with great caution, but 
there wa^ no real need of it. Puss discovered no 
token of fear, nor Marquis the least symptom of hos- 
tility. There is, therefore, it should seem, no natural 
antipathy between dog ami hare, but the pursuit of the 
one occasioiis the flight of the other, and tlie dog pur- 



«ues because he i» trained to it; they eat bread at the 
same time out of the same hand, and are in all respects 
sociable and friendly. 

I should not do complete justice to my subject, did 
I not add, that they have no ill scent belonging to them ; 
that they are indefatigably nice in keeping themselves 
clean, for which purpose nature has furnished them 
with a brush under each foot; and that they are never 
infested by any vermin. 
May 2^, 1784. 

Memorandum found among Mr. Cowpefs papers. 

Tuesday, March 9, 1786. 
This day died poor Puss, aged eleven years eleven 
months. He died between twelve and one at noon, oi 
iafiere did age, and apparently without pain. 



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